


Stupid Lies: Let It All Burn Down

by writenow753



Series: Bleeding Love Saga [3]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Friendship/Love, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, I blame Jinyoung Park's Face on Ch7, Jaebum-Centric, Love Triangles, M/M, Romance, Running Away, Unrequited Love, be prepared, bleeding love saga, doesn't solve anything but we do it anyway, it's complicated - Freeform, only fools fall in love, sugar we're going down, this is going to hurt, this isn't going to be pretty, where is the love?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8096557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writenow753/pseuds/writenow753
Summary: The third installment to the Bleeding Love Saga.  It follows Bleeding Love: Stupid Questions and Bleeding Love: Stupid Cliches.  It would be beneficial to read both of those first.  AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A breakdown/refresher course/explanation for those who need or want it.
> 
> First Universe. Bleeding Love: Stupid Questions.
> 
> It’s the first distinct universe. Chapters 1&2 of Stupid Cliches, as well as all the JJProject backstory (growing up together/childhood) in the future chapters, can be included in this first universe.
> 
> Second Universe. Bleeding Love: Stupid Cliches.
> 
> Chapters 1 and part of 2 (you should know where the turning point is: the phone call) of Stupid Questions is also included in this second distinct universe.
> 
> First Spin-Off. I’ve Got Sunshine (On a Cloudy Day).
> 
> This is only part of the second universe, Stupid Cliches. (To be written.)
> 
> Third Universe. Stupid Lies: Let It All Burn Down.
> 
> All of Stupid Questions (yes, every chapter) as well as Chapters 1&2 and all JJProject backstory of Stupid Cliches is included and part of this third universe.
> 
> *** The basics of ALL universes: Jinyoung and Jaebum have been best friends since second grade. Jaebum is in love with Jinyoung. Mark and Jinyoung date. After that, each universe has its own path and course and story to be told.
> 
> *** If too confusing, please feel free to ask me any questions.

_This is the hardest story,_  
_That I have ever told,_  
_No hope, or love, or glory,_  
_Happy endings gone forever more_

“Happy Ending” by MIKA  
_____________

Lying is an unavoidable part of human nature. Research says so it must be true.

It makes sense, right?

We tell lies as early as babes still in diapers. We’re born naked and innocent, a wailing baby shaking fists in the air, upset about bright lights and the cold, sterile hospital room that’s nothing like the home and comfort we knew for nine months. So the question becomes how do we learn to lie? The lies we tell when we’re toddlers, such small, insignificant lies but still important for what they represent: a slippery slope, a fall into an abyss, a habit that’s as addicting as any drug and just as hard to kick.

We tell lies, according to our ages. “I’m not scared of the dark,” we proudly boast to our classmates in the daylight, but come nighttime, a different story is told. Variations of “the dog ate my homework,” we fib to teachers, and the older we get, the more creative our excuses become. “It wasn’t me,” or “she started it, mom!” when in trouble by our parents, always ready to shift blame. Later in teen years, we’ll say, “I’m going to a friend’s house to study,” when what we really plan is to attend a party thrown by kids much older than us.

And the lie we will repeat the most in life, “I’m fine, thank you,” when asked how we’re doing. The words said so often they become meaningless and trite.

—

Then there are the stories: _Pinocchio_ , “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” “The Golden Ax and the Silver Ax.” Stories we’re told as children to teach us the moral lesson that lying is wrong and honesty is always the best policy.

Of course, in the next breath, our parents speak about Santa Claus and the tooth fairy and tell us that even if we hate the present great-grandma gave us, we still need to be polite and say we love it.

What is the truth? Is it always black and white, a razor sharp divide between the two, or is it perhaps the opposite and there are infinite gray areas when it comes to the words we speak out loud — is it okay to stretch the truth just a tiny _tiny_ bit or tell a white lie depending on the reason? Where do we — where do _you_ — draw the line?

Is lying always bad, or is it just a necessary evil for society to function?

—

Types of lies.

White lies, lies of omission, lies to protect, lies to deceive, the lies we tell ourselves, the lies we tell others, the lies that hurt, the lies that destroy. Little deceits that build and build until they become one giant deception, a tangled web so intricate and fine we can never hope to break free.

Honestly, all of them, all the lies are so fucking stupid. You think we’d learn eventually, wouldn’t you?

Why doesn’t anyone believe the cliche, the truth shall set you free?

Maybe we’re all walking around life with Jack Nicholson-voiced devils sitting on our shoulders, shouting at us, “You can’t handle the truth!”

The devil talks fast and sweet, and we fall willingly into the trap, into believing that it’s all right, just one little lie won’t hurt; it’s not really lying after all, it’s just… not sharing everything. But then that one little lie that’s not really a lie spirals out of control and consumes everything bright and happy and good in our life, burning it down until nothing but bitter ashes remain on the cold, dark ground.

And we stand alone in the wake of destruction we created with no one to blame but ourselves.

—

You know how sometimes in life, you look back and you can’t pinpoint one pivotal, defining event that led you to where you are today, because it was a collection of several little moments and decisions you made instead?

This time, that’s not the case.

This time, there is a giant neon sign right at the exact moment of departure, glaring garishly bright, screeching in capital letters: fuck-up ahead, clean up on aisle five needed.

That’s exactly what happened.

He fucks up royally and it costs him. He should have been content to coast along forever friend-zoned, because who fucking cared the damage it did to his heart, if it meant he could stay by Jinyoung’s side? That’s what’s important. That should have been enough, even if it bled his heart dry.

He goes to the wedding. He has to, he is the best man after all.

He is invited over to their new house they bought together a few other times, but it is nothing but a giant wailing awkward clusterfuck of a mess with both Jinyoung and him trying to act like everything is amazing and perfect and just right.

Just right.

What a fucking lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a different set-up. This story starts going forward before the missing pieces are filled in.


	2. Chapter 2

_Because I love you_  
_I will leave you_  
_For you… I will leave_

“For you” by Im Jaebum

—

 _I know I left too much mess and destruction_  
_To come back again_  
_And I caused nothing but trouble_  
_I understand if you can't talk to me again_

“White Flag” by Dido  
_____________

Jaebum makes it easy for Jinyoung to not feel guilty about inviting, or in some cases, not inviting him over to parties or out to socialize. He takes himself out of the equation completely. He moves.

(Noble idiot syndrome at its finest perhaps.)

He moves around quite a lot. To Vegas first, for a few months, and purely for hedonistic reasons. To LA, to London, to Seoul. He does extraordinarily well in his field. That’s what throwing yourself into work gets you. No life (which is okay for the most part since living had lost its meaning the same time he lost Jinyoung) and a resume that makes him envied and hated by many.

Attempting to forget becomes part of his daily routine, like the clothes he puts on, it becomes an armor he wears to protect himself against unwanted thoughts and memories. They slip through the crevices though, putting chinks in his armor, time and time again, and make it seem like he’s fighting a losing battle.

He dates throughout the years. He uses the term ‘dates’ lightly (if you can use it at all) because nothing lasts longer than a week or two at most. It isn’t fair to any of them anyway, it’s not like he can freely give them his heart. His heart hadn’t belonged to him in years, not since that fateful day on the playground.

Most of the time, it’s just a one-night stand, where they both want to feel something, anything; a brief respite from the lonely, empty lives they lead. Desperately they crave the high of a good fuck and the illusion of being wanted and loved before morning dawn comes to break the spell cast during the night’s darkest hours, shedding light on the lies they whispered in heated, meaningless moments.

And afterward, if he hates himself a little bit more, he pretends that he feels nothing and he is made of stone, not glass. Glass is much too breakable after all, and he can’t afford to try and pick up the pieces again. It’s not like he did a great job the first time anyway. He hadn’t felt whole and complete since that morning he walked away from Jinyoung, closing the door behind him with such finality that the possibility of something happy and good in his life disappeared like smoke in the wind.

—

The last remnants of winter’s first snow has melted away when he gets a call from his agent. (It feels weird and more than a little pretentious to have an agent, but then again, it’s nice to have someone else deal with peripheral concerns.)

A great job opportunity; the best yet. His agent, Matt, keeps building up the job with all its numerous benefits and the future connections it can bring to him.

“What’s the catch?” he asks because it sounds too good to be true. He waits for the proverbial other shoe to drop, and when it does, he can feel the reverberations deep within his bones, much like a pebble skipped across a river creating rippling effects in still waters.

“It’s in NYC.”

Oh, _oh_. New York, the one place he had told his agent specifically to pass on any and all offers. The place (a person) he wants to avoid.

The job is golden, something he had always wanted, an opportunity that is truly too good for any sane person to pass up. Of course, he’s proven that title doesn’t fit him well.

“Let me think about it.”

Matt, unsurprisingly, isn’t happy with his lukewarm response and breaks into a passionate speech about how he’s a difficult client and maybe he should drop him if he can’t be more grateful for the hard work he puts in behind the scenes. They’ve known each other for a while now, which makes his agent feel comfortable in his speech toward him, and which makes him comfortable enough to hang up on Matt mid-rant and turn his phone off to avoid the callbacks that’ll surely follow.

It’s been seven years since he left. At times, it feels like it was just yesterday he boarded the plane to Vegas and other days, he swears he can feel every single year, month, week, day, hour, minute, and second that has passed since he last saw Jinyoung’s face.

Who says Jinyoung and Mark still live in New York City? They’re probably living the good life with two kids, a white picket fence, a dog and cat in some city or town less frantically paced; the American Dream in its fullest, brightest colors. And if not, if by chance, they’re still living there, the odds of running into each other in a city filled with over eight million people is slim to none.

If he’s honest with himself — and truthfully, he rarely is when it comes to Jinyoung-related things because he learns lies become easier to swallow the more you say them — he’s tired of this nomadic lifestyle. Never feeling fully settled, never feeling like the apartment he returns to after a long day is anything more than a place to rest his head. The feelings of home and belonging elude him, like butterflies in the springtime; no matter how hard he chases after both, they’re never quite in reach. He thinks about his parents next, how they’re getting older. They live in Chicago now, moving shortly after he left New York, but it would still be nice to live in the same country versus being almost seven thousand miles away in Korea.

It takes two weeks, two weeks of back and forth and debates and worrying and _longing_ for him to finally return Matt’s call (all twenty-seven of them) and accept the job offer.

For better or for worse, he’s returning home.

Prodigal son, no more.


	3. Chapter 3

_I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited_  
_But I couldn’t stay away, I couldn’t fight it._

//

 _Sometimes it lasts in love_  
_But sometimes it hurts instead_.

“Someone Like You” by Adele

—

 _Would you mind if I pretended I was someone else_  
_with courage in love and war?_

“Weak in the Knees” by Serena Ryder

_____________

He lands at JFK International Airport two weeks before Christmas, the hustle and bustle of the busy airport amplified thanks to the time of year. His fingers itch to fish out his camera from his carryon backpack to capture the madness as well as search out the quieter moments hidden away, tucked into corners, waiting to be found like sunken buried treasures in ocean depths. But he knows himself well enough that ‘just a few pictures’ will easily turn into dozens and before he realizes it he’ll have spent half the afternoon at the airport and his checked luggage will end up God knows where since he hadn’t been at the carousel in time to claim it.

The first week and a half is a whirlwind of activity, going without stop until he collapses exhausted onto the crisp clean sheets of his hotel bed each night. Finding a new apartment centrally located to his work (the process made easier and quicker thanks to Matt’s real estate friend who had potential places lined up for him to look at), handling the shipment of his belongings from Korea to New York, and stopping by his workplace to fill out necessary paperwork (although his actual start date is after the first of the year) all while he tries to get readjusted to the new time zone he’ll be living in.

Then there are countless other small but equally important details to take care of like renewing his driver’s license and setting up his mailing address. But what takes up the bulk of his time is turning his apartment into a livable space. Before he had always opted for furnished living spaces, one for convenience and ease, and two because the likelihood that he would move again was always high. He lived in four cities, but once he moved to London (and later to Seoul) he often traveled for work and would be gone weeks at a time so the desire to make big purchases never happened. This time, this move, he hopes things will be different. He wants to put down roots and settle down.

Over the years, he kept a fairly minimalistic lifestyle in terms of owned belongings, despite that he still manages to accumulate a fair amount — thanks in part to his extensive travels and weekend hobby. His apartment living room once empty is now completely filled with numerous boxes.

His bedroom suite had been delivered and setup this morning (right before his belongings from Korea arrived), meaning he can check out of his hotel. The rest of the furniture he bought is scheduled to come within the next few days. He’s got his bathroom and kitchen essentials already taken care of, while he still needs to purchase a large flat screen TV.

Unpacking and sorting through things is going to take time, and part of him wishes he had taken Matt’s advice of hiring an interior decorator to do all the work for him, but it’s his home he wants to create and make so it’s important to him to do everything himself.

The boxes marked in his meticulous writing, ‘Handle with Care,’ he carries one by one to his bedroom’s walk-in closet before returning to the living room and settling down on the hardwood floor. The floor isn’t the most comfortable, which makes him think he should purchase a rug next time he’s out. With pocketknife in hand he starts to open the remaining boxes. His walls are blank now but after going through his things, he’ll have plenty of photos and artwork to frame and display, pictures he took himself and art he bought from craftsmen selling their wares along foreign streets.

Home is what he has missed most; the feeling of warmth, comfort, happiness. With time, he is sure this apartment will start to feel like that to him. It will.

But there’s a small voice in the back of his head, one that takes pleasure in playing devil’s advocate, one that whispers mockingly that it’s nothing but a pipe dream he’s dreaming, because home is where the heart is and his heart is with Jinyoung.

—

Two days before Christmas he books a flight to Chicago to surprise his parents. It’s been over five years since he left the States and while he flew his parents out twice, once while he lived in London and once in Seoul, he knows the distance has been especially hard on his mother. There’s not been a single phone call or video chat that she hasn’t ended with an ‘I miss you,’ and ‘When will you come home?’

He hadn’t told his parents about accepting the job in New York (or that he had been offered it to begin with), wanting instead to surprise them. He picked up a few Christmas gifts for his parents before leaving Korea, but he can already predict what they’ll say. That having him move back closer is all they really wanted.

He’s had great opportunities to expand his knowledge and skill set and he’s more than grateful for that, but in the end, he can’t help but feel apologetic toward his parents. That in his need to step back — he tries hard to avoid the phrase ‘running away’ even if perhaps it is the most truthful — he ended up putting more and more distance between the three of them.

As his taxi stops outside his parents’ house, a place he had only seen in emailed photos, he feels a combination of nerves and excitement. After settling the cab fare and wishing his driver a Merry Christmas, he makes his way up the driveway with suitcase in tow, extra mindful of any slippery wet spots. Falling on his ass and landing in the emergency room isn’t how he envisions spending Christmas with his parents.

There’s a festive wreath hanging on the door, befitting the holiday, and the porch railing is lined with strands of icicle lights. He takes a short, deep breath before ringing the doorbell. It feels weird to need to, since this is his parents’ place after all, but it’s not like he would have a key. He hasn’t lived here before, and his childhood home got sold years ago. He considers the idea of visiting it (just driving by) after he returns to New York and maybe his old elementary school if it’s still around, but as quickly as the thought comes to mind, he rejects it. Those memories spell nothing but trouble, and they’re better left forgotten. At least that is what he tells himself time and time again.

Lost in thought he doesn’t register the door opening in front of him but he hears the gasp of surprise and the shriek and then he’s enveloped in his mother’s arms and his body responds automatically, slightly bending to accommodate her shorter stature as he wraps his arms around her. Hearing her begin to cry, he tightens his hold.

“Mom, I’m back.”

—

His mother never once stops smiling the entire two weeks he stays in Chicago, and at random intervals during the day she hugs him. In the morning he wakes up and before he takes two steps, she is there waiting with open arms. He comes in from outside where he finished shoveling snow off the driveway for his father and his mom pulls him in for a quick hug then hands him a hot cup of cocoa. She even pinches his cheeks a few times — as if to prove to herself that he is really there — and he gently reminds her that he isn’t three years old anymore, he’s about to turn thirty-one.

He makes a point to stay for his birthday, and admittedly, he needs it just as much for himself as his parents do. Being away for the last seven years, not having family — not having _him_ there — had been hard. As much as he pretended and said otherwise, it had been the day he hated the most because it reminded him of everything he had lost and could never get back.

For his birthday, he wakes up to homemade seaweed soup and the biggest, most abundant spread of all his favorite Korean dishes. Even though he just returned from living in Seoul, nothing compares to the taste of his mother’s food.

It’s because his mother keeps insisting on feeding him throughout his stay — _you’re much too skinny_ , she claims, making soft tutting noises as if she didn’t think he had properly taken care of himself like he promised her — and because he knows it’s a mom thing, that it’s something she had missed doing for him, he eats everything without complaint.

Still the first thing he does when he returns to New York City is sign up for a gym membership.

—

The job’s golden, an opportunity too good for any sane person to pass up, and yet it’s the first week of March and all he can think is this is not what he wants to do.

The long hours are nothing new, neither are the difficult to please clients or the coworkers fueled by a potent blend of jealousy and ambition. It hadn’t bothered him much before, not really. He kept to himself and did what needed to be done and did it well. He knew how to socialize and network when he needed to but he stayed out of workplace drama.

So maybe it’s because he’s back in New York City again that makes him want to reevaluate things; it is called the city of dreams. Matt’s probably going to disown him, but he wants to be happy. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever reach the fabled land where things are bright and happy and good, but the one thing he’s certain of is that his current job isn’t the answer.

He’s invested wisely over the years and he never spent much minus a few well-tailored designer suits and that he considered an investment itself since he often attended formal functions. As for the traveling, almost all the expenses were taken care of because it was work-related. His new apartment is nice but nothing too extravagant, and while it’s New York City where rent is high, he thinks he’ll be able to manage. If not, he can move again, though he dreads that idea greatly since he actually owns stuff now.

With all that in mind, he turns in his two-weeks notice. His boss isn’t happy to see him leave, even going so far as offering him a pay raise which he in turn politely declines.

—

Since he left New York, he’s held a variety of jobs in the media field. His willingness to learn and not think any job was beneath him helped him immensely in the beginning. One job’s good word of mouth usually led to his next job and next. He often had the chance to work with experienced industry seniors, and from them, he learned a lot and with the acquired knowledge he further expanded his credentials.

He’s been a part of and even directed a few films; films that may not have won any awards in Hollywood but won plenty in their home country. He’s worked on music videos for bands, produced countless commercials, taped award shows as well as filmed music festivals to be released on DVD at a later time. While living in Korea, he took part of directing two Korean dramas — the insanity that is a live-shooting schedule is the sole reason why he turned to Korean films next.

It’s when he lived in Los Angeles that he started going by JB thanks to a coworker who had a tendency to shorten everyone’s name. The guy who hired him next knew him from that job and so he kept the nickname, which is why all his film, video, and photo credits has his name listed as JB Im or Im JB. The first photography job he landed was as much a fluke as anything else. One weekend perusing shops in the outskirts of London he came across an old film camera and bought it on a whim, thinking it might be nice to pick up his old hobby. He started taking pictures again, and someone saw what they thought was his portfolio (it was pictures he printed off to send to his parents, a way to keep them updated on his life) and offered him a job which surprisingly enough led to several other opportunities.

He’s lucky to have had such varied experiences but what he really wants now is to give back, which is why he looks at companies that are involved in the community and philanthropy. It’s something he thought about in college, wanting to do, but then the need to leave had been huge and overwhelming and just trying to make it through the day became the most important thing. Life happened and old dreams took a backseat to everything else, becoming nothing more than a faded memory in the rearview mirror.

And he’s hoping to change that.

It takes him a little over a month to find and get the interview at ANNAN. (The first two weeks he had avoided Matt’s calls, but after the initial ‘how could you?’ Matt offered to aid him in his search. He turned down the offer, thinking it would be best to figure it out by himself.)

ANNAN is a small company started by two friends that focuses on producing documentaries as well as creating short films and PR material for charities and good causes around New York City and nationwide.

“I’ve never started an interview off this way, but I can easily say that with your job experience and technical skills you are the most overqualified applicant I have ever seen. We’re a growing company, but still small compared to other industry giants,” Ian Graham, the cofounder of ANNAN, tells him after their initial introduction. “So the question I want to start with is what makes you want to work here?”

The interview lasts well over an hour, but that’s because they end up talking about NYU since Ian (as he asks to be called) had graduated thirteen years prior. They chat about film professors they really liked and the ones they didn’t because they had been impossible to please no matter how hard you worked or how much effort you put into the given assignments. By the time he leaves ANNAN, he feels a spark of excitement thinking that this job might be exactly what he needs. His second interview is scheduled in two days and will be conducted by the other cofounder, Nathan Book.

Maybe it’s because he reminisced with Ian about NYU and maybe it’s because of something (someone) else entirely, but he wants to revisit the campus. He’d been busy since moving back to the States, that even if he wanted to, he hadn’t really had the time to go back to places he once frequented daily.

Before he can change his mind or talk himself out of the very bad idea, he finds himself heading to the university and parking his car in a recently vacated spot. He spends an hour leisurely walking across campus, stopping by buildings that housed classes he attended and passing by the dormitory he lived in freshman year. Some things have changed, minor cosmetic updates and restoration of buildings, but for the most part, much remains the same in the time since he left. He finds that fact oddly comforting.

It’s when he’s wishing that he had brought along his camera that his stomach begins to make angry noises, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it’s now nearly noon. Not paying much attention to the direction he’s heading in, he comes to a complete stop outside of a little hole in the wall Mexican joint. The door opens and a young couple with a baby step out, and he enters the restaurant before he can stop himself. The familiar scents, music and decor transport him back to another time. He knows that if he were to look for it, along the righthand wall that’s lined with more than a hundred Polaroid pictures, he could find a snapshot of two best friends wearing matching t-shirts and silly grins on their faces.

It’s stupid (really fucking stupid) being here, but he can’t fight the need to reconnect even if it’s in some tangential way. Even if in the end he knows it’s only going to lead to more heartbreak.

—

During his first week at ANNAN, Ian and Nathan invite everyone out for dinner and over drinks and food he gets to know his work colleagues a bit better.

It’s the start of the second week, Monday morning, and they’re all crowded into the company’s conference room which everyone calls ThinkSpace. There is a large circular table in lieu of the standard rectangular one, since it fosters better communication and makes for a more relaxed atmosphere. ANNAN has only twenty four other employees, and everyone is on a first name basis. It’s been a week but he clearly sees that everyone works hard to create positive synergy in their working environment.

Today’s meeting is to discuss the documentaries they’ll begin to shoot this month. As soon as Jaebum hears the topic is music, he sits up a little straighter, his interest piqued more so thanks to the subject matter.

Team effort is given and expected and after Ian and Nathan’s initial talk, everyone starts to pitch ideas and potential stories to be covered.

“… the underground music scene, how it’s changed in the last fifty years and what’s the future like?”

“The indie music industry, specifically focusing on street performers, busking types, and singer-songwriters…”

“How has the music landscape changed thanks to technology and the internet? With the internet, there’s a prevalence of rising youtube stars. Will any of these ‘stars’ be able to take the success they’ve built with their subscribers and turn it into a lasting music career? How has the music industry changed thanks to the prolific number of audition shows that are being green-lighted every year? Are music legends still made today, or is the industry nothing but one-hit wonders and mediocrity?”

“… speaking of global connectivity, what is the trend of foreign acts becoming more and more well-known within the US? Is it a fad, is it a trend — and if it is, is it a growing one or dying? What are the key differences between the music industry in the States and the global music industry? Can we learn something from how foreign music markets operate? Likewise, can foreign markets learn…”

For the most part, he stays quiet minus adding in a few comments. His mind is a little occupied with a potential idea. While he debates whether or not it’s a good idea to suggest it, Nathan and Ian ask who wants to take the lead on certain topics and before he knows it the meeting ends with him joining a group of three that will cover the global aspect of music and foreign acts. It is an interesting subject, especially since he’s well traveled and he is Korean and there is a genre known as kpop.

It’s later that day after returning from lunch out with his teammates and he still can’t let go of his initial idea that he had earlier. He knows it’s probably much too late to bring it up, but thirty minutes later, he finds himself standing outside his boss’s office. Not wanting someone to come by and question what he’s doing, he hesitates only a moment more before knocking twice.

“Come in,” Ian calls, and he opens the door with an apologetic smile in case he’s interrupting something.

While he likes both his bosses equally well, he chooses to talk to Ian, maybe because of the shared alma mater and because Ian interviewed him first.

“Hey, JB. Is there something wrong?” Ian asks, putting down the ballpoint pen he’s holding in his hand to give him his attention.

“No, no sorry. May I sit down?” Ian nods and he takes a seat. “Actually I wanted to suggest an idea for a documentary.”

If his boss finds it odd that he didn’t speak up at the meeting earlier, he doesn’t say it. “And that would be?”

“I know I’m part of a group already and I’m perfectly content with working on that too,” Jaebum says, wanting to make sure his boss wouldn’t think he was already trying to get out of being a team player. “There were a lot of ideas that we discussed, but one that didn’t come up and one that I think would be interesting to explore further is a film about music therapy.”

Ian says nothing for a few moments and Jaebum wonders if maybe he made a mistake in coming here — despite his impressive resume, he’s still the newest employee at ANNAN.

“Honestly I don’t know a lot about the field,” Ian starts, “but it could potentially be a great idea. You’re part of a group already, but why don’t you write up a proposal and give it to me by Friday afternoon and Nathan and I’ll discuss it.”

“Thank you for considering it, and don’t worry, I’ll have the proposal ready for you by the end of the week.”

It’s actually Thursday morning when he hands Ian the write-up.

“You had until Friday,” Ian says with a bit of surprise in his voice, as he briefly flips through the stapled pages.

“I was inspired.”

The real, true reason why he’s interested in the subject is one he shoves forcefully aside — he tells himself it’s not because of Jinyoung over and over and the voice inside his head, the one that’s gotten louder since returning to New York, singsongs in a childish voice, _liar liar, pants on fire_ — and instead he says (lies) that it’s because music therapy is an important field and one more people should know and learn about.

It’s Friday when he’s about to head home for the evening that Ian stops him. “About the music therapy documentary, Nathan and I talked about it and we both like it.”

“You do? That’s great.”

“Since everyone is working on their own assignments already, I was thinking you could do this as your solo project. You’ve got more than enough experience, unless you rather not work alone…”

“No, that’s actually perfect and it works well for the type of documentary I wanted to create.”

“I figured that when I read your proposal. All I ask is for you to give us weekly updates of your progress. For your other project, I’ll let your teammates know Monday that you’ll be splitting your time between helping them and a new assignment.”

—

Thanks to the proposal he submitted to Ian and Nathan, he has already finished his primary research (a refresher for his memory) and has a list of people to get into contact with. It’s the weekend, but he sees no reason he can’t get a head-start on his project.

Powering on his laptop, he opens his web browser to his email account and starts to send out messages. He keeps the emails similar — all of them professional and relatively short and to the point, but he attaches a shortened version of his documentary proposal (that he already did for this exact purpose) and ends the message with the various ways they can contact him to discuss the documentary further.

His plan is to include interviews with NYU professors, as well as students in the program. Then there is the Parker Center where music therapists work. He knows he’ll end up asking all of them similar questions, but he thinks it will be interesting to see how each one views the field of music therapy: the ones who no longer do (or never did) but teach, the ones who want to become licensed music therapists, and the ones who are currently working in the field. It’s the Parker Center employees that he believes will give him the best and deepest understanding of what music therapy is and how it is used to treat patients.

He wants to interview or to include segments with patients (and their families) as well, and he hopes that the Parker Center will aid him in his request and if not, perhaps steer him in a direction of those who can.

—

Over the course of the next week through countless emails back and forth, responding to questions asked and asking a few questions himself, he finally gets the approval from the director of Parker Center.

There are still things that need to be done, like needing consent forms for the patients’ families as well as the patients’ themselves (if they’re able to make decisions on their own), and he needs to sign a consent form of his own for the Center, saying he will not hold them personally liable for any injury or harm, since there are patients who can and may have violent outbursts. He also has to promise (and sign a form stating the same) that he’ll listen to and follow any and all instructions given to him by the head of the music therapy department, Junior Park.

—

He stands in the lobby of Parker Center after signing the visitor’s log and letting the receptionist know his name and that he is there to see Mr. Baldwin, the director of the Center.

Less than five minutes later a young man with blonde hair and a bright, welcoming smile approaches him. “JB Im?”

“Yes, that’s me,” he says and holds out his hand in greeting. The guy in front of him looks much too young to be the director, but he asks anyway. “Are you Mr. Baldwin?”

The guy laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or not that you think I look like I could be the director. I’m Youngjae Choi, I’m a music therapist that works here. I was in Mr. Baldwin’s office when the receptionist called and I offered to be your escort.”

“Ah, thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

They exchange small talk as they take the elevator to the seventh floor where the director’s office is located. After reaching their destination, Youngjae briefly knocks on the door before opening it.

“Mr. Baldwin, this is JB Im.”

“Hello, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Jaebum greets him with a smile and offers his hand to shake.

As Youngjae is about to exit, Mr. Baldwin stops him and asks him to take the seat beside Jaebum. The director hands him the consent forms for him to look over and to sign, which he quickly does. “I wanted to take you on a tour of the facility, but I’m expecting an important phone call that I need to be here to answer.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll uh—” Jaebum starts and then stops since he had hoped to go over a few more details of the documentary filming process with Mr. Baldwin. “I can always come back at a later time, or another day,” he finally says.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ve already approved the filming and I’ve talked briefly with Mr. Park. He’s aware that there’s going to be a documentary filmed here and that he will be in charge — he’ll be the person that you go to with any questions and concerns you may have during the filming process. And as for the touring of Parker Center, that’s why I asked you to stay Mr. Choi.” He turns to look at Youngjae. “I want you to take Mr. Im around and if you see Mr. Park can you send him to my office?”

After saying that he will pass along the message, Youngjae leads Jaebum out of the office and shuts the door behind them. “All right, it looks like I’ll be your guide for a little while longer. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, you’ve done well so far,” Jaebum comments with a grin. “I just hate that I’m keeping you from your work.”

“Don’t, I’m actually really excited that you’re here and will be doing a film about music therapy. I think that’s great.”

As they tour through Parker Center, Youngjae tells him a little more about the facility. Jaebum knows some of it already, but he appreciates Youngjae taking the time to be his tour guide so he doesn’t say anything. There are seven floors, with four floors housing patients exclusively. Youngjae briefly mentions how many doctors and nurses are on staff and how many patients live in the facility full-time. Parker Center also offers out-patient care where patients can come in and take classes.

“Also please call me Youngjae,” the younger man says after Jaebum calls him Mr. Choi again. “Those of us who work here go by first name basis with all the patients to build a rapport and make things seem a little less clinical and more relaxed for them and their families. So that transfers to us doing the same with each other, well minus Mr. Baldwin but he’s pretty old-fashioned. Is it okay if I call you JB?”

“Yes, that’s fine. It seems like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Jaebum tells him.

Next Youngjae starts to talk a bit about his coworkers that he’ll soon meet. “Junior is my direct supervisor and the department head of music therapy here at Parker Center. There are six of us that work under him.”

“How long have you worked here?” Jaebum asks. “And do you get along well with your department head?” He’s curious about the man he will be working closely with. He hopes that he’s as nice and friendly as Youngjae has been.

“Hm, let’s see.” Youngjae pauses to think for a moment. “This coming July marks two years. And Junior? Senior is probably a more fitting name for him.” Youngjae lets out a short chuckle. “He’s quite serious minded, and Danielle and I — oh, she’s another music therapist that you’ll meet later — we usually joke that he dresses much older than his actual age.”

Jaebum nods, taking in the information. “So Junior is a nickname then?”

“I started here after Mr. Baldwin became director, but our previous director had the same name and so everyone started calling him Junior and it just stuck. That’s how I’ve always known him to be honest.” They take the elevator down to the third floor, because Youngjae thinks his supervisor may be visiting patients there.

“After you,” Jaebum says, holding the door open for Youngjae to exit first when the elevator stops on the third floor.

Youngjae smiles his thanks and once out, he continues to talk. “You asked about Junior, and yes he’s a really great boss. He’s someone I admire and look up to. I think the first six months I worked here, I learned more from him than I did in some of my classes I took in college. He’s wonderful with the patients, honestly you should see him interacting with…” he trails off and grins as he remembers why Jaebum is there. “Well of course you’ll get to see that.”

“I hope, if I can get the patient and, or their guardian’s permission to film.”

“I’m sure some will say no, but I think you’ll have no problem finding willing participants. Junior will be a great ally for you and I’m sure he’ll do whatever he can to help you and help make the documentary a success.”

“I hope so.” Youngjae’s positive spirit makes Jaebum glad to have met the other man. Because he’s curious and wonders if Youngjae knows the answer, he asks, “What is Junior’s real name?”

They turn the corner, and just as Youngjae is about to answer the question, he starts to smile. “Ah, there he is now.”

Momentarily distracted by some artwork hanging on the wall, Jaebum turns to Youngjae first and then his focus shifts in the direction the younger man is looking, and everything comes to a complete stop.

_Jinyoung._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ANNAN is a combination of iAN and NAthaN, while the inspiration for Parker Center should be obvious.
> 
> I know it may be a little confusing because Stupid Lies starts after the events of Stupid Questions (blsq, 1st Universe) and you may want to think of this as a sequel, but I want to clarify again that this is a different Universe altogether.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still using Jaebum and Jinyoung, except in cases for when someone is directly speaking to them and in that case, I’ll use JB and Junior respectively.

_I’m in California dreaming about who we used to be_  
_when we were younger and free._  
_I forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet._

_There's such a difference between us and a million miles._

“Hello” by Adele

—

 _I tell my empty heart that it’s a fool_  
_“Why can’t I cry even though I’m in pain?”_

//

 _Everything underneath the sky and the moon sunk in._  
_Nothing seems to be the way it used to be_  
_except me who lost you._

“Sleepless Night” by SHINee  
_____________

The dictionary definition of breathing: the process of taking air into and expelling it from the lungs. As we breathe in our diaphragm contracts downward, creating a vacuum that causes a rush of fresh air into the lungs, while with exhalation, our diaphragm relaxes upwards, pushing air out of the lungs. It’s an act we take for granted, something we don’t think about ninety-nine percent of the time we are awake.

But the moment he spots Jinyoung walking down the hallway in his direction, it’s as if he forgets how to breathe. Everything comes to a standstill, his heart and lungs included, and oh, God he can feel the rise of panic starting to set in along with the very real and Darwinian survival instinct of fight-or-flight.

Through the muddled mess of his mind, he can hear Youngjae asking if he’s okay and he forces himself to take in a shaky breath one after another until he feels slightly steadier on his feet as his initial panic begins to ebb. Then Jinyoung is standing before him, and it’s weird. Really really fucking weird and surreal and almost alternate universe-like to see Jinyoung standing a few steps away — that if he wanted to, if he dared to, he could reach out and touch Jinyoung and it wouldn’t be some dream or made-up illusion that would shatter into nothingness like candy confetti falling from a beaten piñata.

It’s been seven years, and it shouldn’t be possible that Jinyoung looks almost exactly the same. It’s been seven years, and it shouldn’t be possible that his heart reacts the very same way that it always did whenever Jinyoung was near. It shouldn’t be possible, yet it is.

“You’re back?”

“You’re Junior?”

Two questions, stupid questions really, stating the obvious. Over the years, his mind would drift during the lonely hours of nightfall and he would lay in bed imagining meeting Jinyoung again; how it would go, what he would say, what Jinyoung would say. On the good nights he would fall asleep with a smile on his face, after thinking up scenarios that could easily rival any romantic drama and put it to shame in how very perfect and wonderful their first meeting would be and what it could lead to in the future. Most often though, his dreams turned into nightmares. Nightmares that left him curled up in bed with his eyes clenched tight to stem the tears that fell like rain, because he knew without a doubt the reunion scenes which led to heartbreak and were the complete opposite of everything bright and happy and good were the ones far more likely to happen.

And here he is now, feeling like he’s on the edge of a cliff, suspended in the air and floating between dream and nightmare. One word, one action and he’d slip and fall without any safety net to catch him.

“You two know each other?” Youngjae asks, reminding them of the fact they are not alone.

“Yes,” Jaebum replies just as Jinyoung answers, “No.”

And with that one-word answer, it’s all Jaebum needs to know about the direction this meeting will take. Not that he expected anything different, but hope is a funny funny thing. As much as he tried to kill, crush, light on fire and burn to the ground any remaining trace of hope he had in regards to Jinyoung, a tiny tiny spark stayed kindled deep in his heart. A tiny spark that just had a metaphorical ocean’s worth of water tossed over it to extinguish it once and for all. And unlike the movie title, hope doesn’t float; it drowns.

Sensing the confusion their conflicting answers brought Youngjae, Jinyoung concedes after a moment. “We did… but that was a long time ago.”

Uncertain and not wanting to create further tension, Youngjae’s more than grateful to remember the director’s earlier request. “Ah, I almost forgot… Mr. Baldwin wants to see you in his office, Junior.”

Jinyoung’s face displays his welcome relief to have an excuse to make a fast exit and he does so without another word or backward glance.

Silence descends upon them for the first time since meeting one another and Youngjae gives Jaebum a small smile of encouragement. “Should we continue—”

“Hey, sorry,” Jaebum interjects, cutting Youngjae off abruptly. “I uh— actually do you mind, I think I left my car unlocked so I should probably go and, yeah I should go and check it…”

“Oh.” Recognizing Jaebum may want a few moments to himself, Youngjae hurries to assure him it’s fine.

And then Jaebum is gone and Youngjae is left alone to wonder what just happened.

—

He barely manages to make it to the elevator and out the lobby and back into the much-too-bright sun-filled sky before his legs nearly give out on him. It takes a moment to steady himself and he walks toward his car, clicking the unlock button on his key remote before climbing inside. It’s hot and stuffy in the car but it barely registers in his mind.

His hand reaches up and rests over his heart, as if to soothe the ache that never fully went away or stopped.

All the lies, all the fucking lies he told himself, come back in full force like hurling insults — laughing manically to taunt him at what a complete and utter fool he had been to _even_ pretend to believe them. The lies he told himself over and over again — that he was over Jinyoung, that he had moved on, that he was perfectly okay, that he wasn’t broken and beyond repair — all things he knew to _not_ be self-evident truths. Instead, he repeatedly chose to ignore the reality that for him Jinyoung would always be his favorite drug, his favorite mistake, his favorite everything.

—

It’s almost an hour later, after meeting up with Youngjae and apologizing to him for suddenly disappearing and brushing off the incident as not a big deal, that he finds himself in a room alone with Jinyoung for the first time in years. They’re in Jinyoung’s office and Jaebum takes a quick look around the room. Framed and hung on the wall are Jinyoung’s music therapy license and his NYU diploma. The bookcase in the corner is overflowing with books and trade journals, while his desk is relatively clean and uncluttered. There’s a lone plant close to the window — he’s not sure what kind, he’d never been good at differentiating between plant species — but even with that, the room still feels lifeless. There is no artwork and no personal mementos anywhere that he can see.

Jinyoung had closed the door after they both entered, and although there are two chairs on the other side of Jinyoung’s desk, Jaebum decides to remain standing until he’s offered a seat. The air surrounding them is suffocating with a mix of uneasiness (how do you start a conversation when you don’t know _where_ to start?) and awareness (it’s been over seven years but the past, in all its fucked-up glory, still hangs heavily between them).

“How’s Mark?” is what comes out of his mouth before his brain can scream, ‘abort! abort!’

Behind his desk, Jinyoung has a stack of papers in hand but at Jaebum’s question, they fall and he mutters a soft ‘fuck’ at the paper-cut he gets in his haste to organize them. He sucks the pad of his thumb in his mouth to lessen the immediate pain but removes it when he catches Jaebum’s gaze. Sitting down in his desk chair, his shoulders begin to relax. The smile on his face isn’t forced neither is it entirely genuine. “Mark is doing well, really well actually. We’re…” he pauses to gesture that Jaebum should also take a seat, “we’re really happy.”

“That’s—” He’s not sure what he would have said… good? great to hear? (even if his heart vehemently disagrees) because Jinyoung interrupts him before he can finish his sentence.

“That being said, Jae—JB is it?” At Jaebum’s nod, he continues, “JB, we’re not friends.”

It’s frightening how he had believed he couldn’t bleed anymore, how he had foolishly (so fucking foolishly) believed that his heart couldn’t possibly be broken or damaged more than it already had been. It’s scary and funny and so fucking stupid because it’s not true at all. At Jinyoung’s words, at the fucking way Jinyoung is looking at him — like he means nothing to him and never did — he wants to be a coward and run away and hide and never never never look back because this right here is going to kill him. This feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest and gleefully torn into a million tiny microscopic pieces over and over and over again. God what an idiot he had been to return to New York City.

He had lied to himself, he had pretended and had told himself repeatedly that he came back for the golden job opportunity, for his parents, for a hundred different reasons that did not include Jinyoung and this is exactly what lying to yourself gets you. Misery and pain. And the really shitty thing is that he knows he deserves every single word Jinyoung says or throws at him.

He had fucked up. And for him to think for one fucking moment that anything could be different, that there was any possible way that this reunion wouldn’t go down exactly like it is… what a fucking fool he had been.

And what a fucking fool he is because even as the pain in his heart is so great, so massive that he thinks that death really might be a welcome answer, he still can’t help but be in love with Jinyoung. He can’t help but be happy to see Jinyoung even if it’s clear that Jinyoung doesn’t share the same sentiment.

“I know,” he finally quietly says, not wanting to admit the truth but when the truth is staring you straight in the face it’s impossible to deny.

“I’ve talked it over with Mr. Baldwin,” Jinyoung says next, not bothering to acknowledge Jaebum’s answer. “For the time being it seems like we’re going to be working together.”

“I didn’t know you worked here.” As much as seeing Jinyoung again is both painful and comforting, Jaebum doesn’t want to make things harder for him. He figures it’s only right to take himself out of the equation once more. “I can find another place—”

“It’s fine.” At Jaebum’s look of surprise, Jinyoung reiterates, “It’s fine. As long as we’re on the same page about… things, I’m perfectly okay working together with you. We’re both adults. The past is the past. Let’s focus on the here and now. Do you agree?”

Jinyoung’s almost too calm and clinical and Jaebum wants to shake him and make him go back to the Jinyoung he use to know. Or maybe he just wants to shake himself out of this waking nightmare he’s currently in.

“Yes,” he replies, because what else can he say? Jinyoung is right after all, the past should stay firmly where it belongs. If Jinyoung can act like seeing him doesn’t bother him one tiny bit, he can do the same even if it kills him in the end.

Jinyoung smiles, again it’s a little too bright and fake and Jaebum absolutely loathes it with a passion of a thousand burning suns. When he was a child he was deathly afraid of clowns — the overdrawn garishly bright red lips, the white makeup that stood out in stark contrast, the exaggerated laughter that screamed insincerity — now he thinks the way Jinyoung is smiling at him is more terrifying than a roomful of costumed clowns.

“All right, good… we’ve got that cleared up.” Jinyoung says it with such nonchalance like he had just finished asking Jaebum what he wanted for lunch, and not that he had told him he rather forget their entire history. “I’ve read over the documentary proposal you sent to the director. While I don’t see any immediate problems, I do hope you’re willing to adapt and take direction from me depending on the circumstances.”

And so it begins, the pretend they’re nothing more than two people who happen to be working together for a short period of time.

“That won’t be an issue, I’ve already signed papers stating the same. And with a film that focuses on people living with illnesses, I understand it requires a lot of sensitivity and I have no problems taking cues from you on what you feel is right.”

“You’re interested in filming therapy sessions with patients and interviewing the patient and their family as well, right?”

Jaebum nods. “It would be valuable to the documentary and without it, the film won’t feel complete. To be able to show exactly what music therapy is and how it is used to benefit a patient, that will be powerful. I have a consent form written up for the parties to sign, I can talk with potential interviewees myself, or with you…”

“While I agree that for a lot of people seeing what music therapy can do is better than just having a film talking about the field, I think it would be best if I took the responsibility of getting filming permission for you. At least to start with. If they’re hesitant but still interested and want to speak with you, then you can come in and introduce yourself and talk with them. For the patients and their families, I’m just going to let you know now… this isn’t just a job for me. I care about them and they trust me, and if they don’t want to be part of your film, I’m not going to force them or encourage them.”

“And I wouldn’t want you to.” Jaebum has to admit it soothes his heart a little to see how much Jinyoung obviously cares about the patients he treats. The protective mama-bear quality that Jinyoung used to have for him, at least it’s not completely gone. “I don’t intend to overstep any boundaries, and I assure you I’ll be respectful and mindful of everyone involved in the film and that includes anyone who does not want to participate.”

Jinyoung looks satisfied with his answer. “I assume you’ll want to interview me and that’s fine, but I expect you’ll be okay with working with my schedule and around my patients’ needs?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’m working on another film as well, but if you give me your schedule for the next few weeks and let me know the best time and dates for you then I can work around my other commitments.” He knows, God he knows, that he probably seems like a pathetic fool (in love) bending over backward for someone who clearly doesn’t care about him, but when it comes to Jinyoung, he doesn’t know how to do anything else. It’s in his blood.

“I can do that. If you give me your work email address I can look at my schedule later and send you a list of dates… for the other, I’ll need some time to work on that before I can compile a list of those willing to participate and allow you to film them.”

Jaebum stands, taking his wallet out and handing Jinyoung a business card. A card that has all his contact information on it, and the bitter irony isn’t lost on him. Before they had known everything — well, almost everything — about each other, and now… now they’re practically strangers.

—

That afternoon after leaving Parker Center he grabs a quick bite to eat, even though he’s not really hungry, before he heads to the gym.

He works out for hours, mindlessly jumping from one machine to the next, punishing his body to punish himself. Not caring that all the muscles in his body are screaming in protest, he jogs over to the indoor track next. He wonders if he runs long enough, fast enough, can he outrun the onslaught of memories that mercilessly keeps playing over and over in his mind?

To see Jinyoung again, it had been the sweetest and cruelest form of torture and he doesn’t know whether to thank Heaven or curse God that Jinyoung is back in his life.

At least, for the moment he is.

The documentary filming won’t last forever.

But then again, nothing does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello angst.
> 
> It was this or Jinyoung punching Jaebum in the face, making him bleed both figuratively and literally.


	5. Chapter 5

_So take it slow and let time heal everything_  
_They say that time flies, but you keep breaking its wings._  
_You’ll never fade (fade, fade) fade to black (fade to black)_  
_Please fade (fade, fade) fade to black_  
_But the nightmares come back_

“Eyes, Nose, Lips” by Tablo featuring Taeyang

—

 _I’m losing control_  
_It’s been way too long_  
_I’m losing control_  
_It’s been way too long_  
_Stop fucking with my brain_  
_Stop spitting on my pain_  
_I’ll burn you in flame_

“Losing Control” by Nell  
_____________

It’s three days after meeting Jinyoung in the hallway of Parker Center that he returns. Jinyoung had sent him a short email to request a copy of the filming consent form as well as to let him know he could schedule an hour to meet with him to be interviewed either Thursday or Friday the following week.

Despite being both easier and quicker to email the form to Jinyoung, he figures since he’s in the area (if by being in the area means nearly an hour away) he can drop by Parker Center and deliver the paperwork in person. It’s stupid really, but now that he had seen Jinyoung he feels all the control he had — the control he had to walk away and stay away — slipping and crumbling like sand castles on the beach.

It will be okay, he tells himself. (He’s heard positive thinking will lead to a positive outcome, or some bullshit like that.) They are grown adults. Jinyoung obviously has no problem acting indifferent toward him. He needs to work on it and put actual effort into it, but he’s determined to play the game that Jinyoung has started — the one where they’re nothing but strangers, with no past, no history. Practice makes perfect, and it’s better that he perfect his act before he officially starts the filming process. He has to be one-hundred percent professional. Not just because it’s his job, not just because that’s what Jinyoung wants and expects, but because of the importance of the documentary.

When he arrives at Parker Center, the receptionist recognizes him from the time before and after he assures her that he remembers the way to Jinyoung’s office, she hands him a visitor’s badge to clip onto his button-down shirt.

A few minutes later, he runs into Youngjae after exiting the elevator. Youngjae’s headed the opposite way but stops when he sees him to exchange a smile and say a quick ‘hello’.

The door to Jinyoung’s office is already open but he knocks to make his presence known.

“Jae—JB.” Jinyoung’s face shows a moment of surprise then it’s gone and his face is a blank canvas. “What are you doing here?” He sees the file folder in Jaebum’s hand and infers what it holds. “You could have just emailed me the form. There really was no reason for you to come here.”

_There really was no reason for you to come here._

It’s not even that harsh of a statement, it’s just in the way that Jinyoung says it that makes him feel wholly unwelcome.

It will be okay, he told himself. (Lies.) What’s that saying again? Positive thoughts, positive outcome? (More lies.)

Practice makes perfect. (Still undecided if that’s a complete lie as well.) He’s determined to act like Jinyoung, to take a page from his playbook and act like there is no history between them.

“I know.” He congratulates himself that his voice sounds unaffected as he hands Jinyoung the folder. “I had the forms in my car already and was nearby so I figured why not drop them off?” Running into Youngjae earlier reminds him of a question he needed to ask Jinyoung. “Since Mr. Baldwin put you in charge as the liaison, I know I need to run things by you first before doing anything, so I wanted to see if it would be all right to interview some of your staff? Although your interview will be the lead, I would like the chance to hear from the other therapists as well. If that’s okay with you?”

Jinyoung takes a moment to consider the question before answering. “As long as you don’t interfere with their work and they’re willing to talk to you, I have no problem with it.”

“Follow-up question. Is it okay to schedule a separate interview time and date with them?” He wants to make sure he won’t cause any issues for the therapist or Jinyoung.

“I don’t think I can set aside time to be present for each of their interviews but keep me informed of the time and date, and I may be able to stop by for a few minutes. I trust my staff,” Jinyoung tells him. “But when it comes to the patients and their families, I’ll always need to be present any time you film… but since I’m still working on that for you, we can discuss those details another time.”

“All right that sounds good, I won’t keep you any longer since I know I stopped by unannounced…”

Jinyoung checks his watch and stands up. “I do need to head out, but before you go, why don’t you stop by Youngjae’s office? It’s three doors down to the right. I think you should interview him for the film.”

—

It’s Monday morning and Jaebum is in Youngjae’s office. It’s a bit smaller in size compared to Jinyoung’s, but there are a couple paintings hanging on the walls that brighten up the space.

“Where do you want me?” Youngjae asks, after welcoming Jaebum into his office. He met him downstairs in Parker Center’s lobby at ten till ten despite Jaebum telling him the week before he didn’t need to make the effort since he knew his way now. “I mean is it okay to sit behind my desk?” he hurries to add. “Or should I move my chair closer to yours? I guess we could always film this in a therapy room that’s not being used.”

“Your office is perfectly fine.”

“You know JB, maybe this isn’t such a great idea.” When Jaebum had told him last Thursday he wanted to interview him for the film, he’d been so surprised and overwhelmed that he found himself agreeing without hesitation. But then over the weekend, his nerves got the better of him and now he isn’t so sure about it. “This is reminding me of my fear of public speaking. I’ve never been a great speaker. You should interview Junior of course, and I think maybe Danielle or Stephen would be—”

“Actually it was Junior who suggested that I talk to you first.”

“He did?” Jaebum nods. The knowledge that his boss recommended him makes him feel a little better.

“You can sit behind your desk,” Jaebum answers Youngjae’s earlier question as he finishes setting up his filming equipment and checking to make sure the camera view is just right. He plans to sit across from Youngjae with his chair turned slightly toward the camera to catch only his profile. He wants the main focus to be on Youngjae, not him. “And we’ve talked plenty before, we’re on a first name basis already,” he jokes and sees Youngjae crack a smile. “There’s no reason to be nervous.”

“Yeah, but this is different.” He points to the camera that is in the corner of his office. In a few moments a blinking red light will turn on and he’s afraid he’ll make a mistake and get really tongue-tied. The documentary is important and he would hate to embarrass himself, especially in front of someone like Jaebum who seems to be the picture definition of cool and collected.

“It doesn’t have to be. Just think of it as the two of us having a conversation.” After hitting the record button, he takes a seat opposite Youngjae. “I don’t want you to be so focused on sounding perfect that you sound like a textbook. I want you to be you. When that happens, people will see your sincerity and your love of music therapy and that’s the key to making a great film. Moving people, making them feel… making them care about something they may never heard of before.”

“Okay.” It sounds easy when Jaebum says it like that, it’s just nerves are hard to overcome. “I’ll try.”

He had promised Jinyoung he wouldn’t pressure anyone to participate in the filming, and while Jinyoung had meant that mainly in regards to the patients and their families, Jaebum feels it’s just as important to extend the same courtesy to all Parker Center employees. Youngjae had been nothing but kind and helpful since they first met, and he worries that the younger man may have agreed to be interviewed simply because he is nice.

“What if we begin the interview, and if you start to feel too uncomfortable at any time, I’ll stop immediately?” Jaebum suggests. “And even if we stop twenty minutes later and I’ve already got footage, if you decide you don’t want me to use it, I won’t.”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you.” He feels silly that he is so nervous but it’s who he is. “All right.” He takes a breath and nods to Jaebum that he’s ready.

Hoping to help the younger man lessen his anxiety and take his mind further away from the blinking red light of the camera, he decides to start with a simple question. “Why did you want to become a music therapist?”

Youngjae’s eyes dart from the camera to Jaebum. His eyes widen slightly in surprise because it’s not a question he thought he would be asked for the film. “You really want to know?”

Jaebum nods yes, giving Youngjae a smile of encouragement.

“It’s kind of a long story I guess but all right, sure.” As his mind starts to drift toward the reason why he chose his profession, thoughts about being filmed or messing up or embarrassing himself begin to fade away and it’s just him, Jaebum, and his memories alone in the room. “My grandfather had cancer.”

“I’m sorry.” The words leave his mouth automatically but the sincerity in them is genuine, knowing it’s hard to watch someone close to you suffer and be in pain.

“Thank you. We were really close. My father left when I was five and my grandfather stepped up and became that father-figure for me. I have two younger sisters, and my mom worked two jobs trying to raise the three of us on her own.”

“Your mother sounds like a strong woman.”

“She really is.” Youngjae smiles in agreement. “We often spent time at our grandparents’ house after school and during the summer it was practically our second home. While my sisters followed my grandmother around, I could always be found next to my granddad. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. He was my hero.”

Hearing Youngjae speak about the close relationship he had with his grandfather makes Jaebum remember (and miss) his own. Even though he can predict how Youngjae’s story ends, he still hopes to be proven wrong.

“I had just turned thirteen when my mom sat me down one night and told me that her dad had been diagnosed with cancer. I didn’t fully understand what it meant except that it sounded scary. I remember asking her if he was going to die. He did chemotherapy and long hospital stays became the norm. It was summertime and all my friends were interested in going to water parks and attending basketball camp and all I wanted to do was be there for my granddad. At first my mom didn’t want me spending so much time at the hospital but I can be pretty stubborn too…”

“She was worried about you.”

“I know,” Youngjae softly agrees. “I ended up spending a lot of time there anyway, because it was hard on my grandmother to stay long hours day in and day out and my mom couldn’t afford to take off much time from work. I usually spent the night there with him. I hated the thought of him being scared or lonely. I just… it bothered me a lot.”

“And music?” The filming has become secondary as he listens to Youngjae talk, still he asks the question to help Youngjae refocus and to help him not dwell too long on difficult memories.

“Oh, yeah… sorry.” Youngjae shakes his head as if to clear it. “My granddad always loved music. I think that’s why I enjoyed it so much to be honest. I remember being around seven or eight outside with my granddad as he tinkered around the garage — that’s what he called it ‘tinkering’ and getting out of my grandmother’s hair.” He lets out a small laugh at the recollection. “I would sit on an upturned bucket and hand my grandfather tools as he needed them and listen to him sing along to the radio that played in the background.”

The scene Youngjae paints is one Jaebum can easily picture in his mind.

“Later to help keep his mind off the nausea and side effects that came with treatment, I brought him his old radio so he could listen to it whenever he wanted to but more often than not, he asked me to sing to him instead. So I started to sing to him his favorite hymns and songs that he grew up listening to. If there was a song I didn’t know, I would look up the lyrics and practice so that I could sing it to him the next time.”

“What was your grandfather’s favorite song?”

“It was my grandmother’s favorite actually but it became his as well because he loved her so much.” He can’t help but smile as he thinks of his grandparents’ marriage and how happy they were together. “It’s a song sung by Otis Redding. “That’s How Strong My Love Is.” I remember after learning my grandfather’s cancer had spread, I went over to their house and that song started playing on the radio just as I was about to enter the kitchen. My grandfather got up from where he had been sitting at the table… he was a little unsteady on his feet but he took my grandmother in his arms and started dancing with her. I can still hear the sound of my grandmother’s laughter as she chastised him for getting his clothes dirty since she was covered in flour from making a pie crust. But my granddad didn’t care at all, he just continued to sing her that song while they danced.”

It’s one of his favorite memories that he had of his grandparents, and it’s one Youngjae cherished and kept close to his heart because it got a lot harder after that. “On better days during treatment, my granddad would try and sing along with me. But toward the end, it got more difficult for him until finally it was just me singing alone in the room. I would sing for God I don’t know… hours… whatever I could do to help try and take his mind off the pain. To give him comfort, I would have done anything.”

“How old were you when he passed away?” Jaebum gently asks.

“Sixteen. My grandfather had just gifted me his car, and I didn’t want it. It was his, and he was going to get better and drive it again. It was stupid I know, but I couldn’t give up that irrational hope that maybe the doctors were wrong and he could beat the cancer spreading through his body. He was strong, the strongest person I knew, and he was a fighter, he had already fought so hard… if anyone could beat cancer, he could. So I refused the car saying I didn’t need it. It was a week later when my mom got the three a.m. phone call from the hospital. It was a school night, so that meant I couldn’t—” Youngjae pauses, feeling himself getting emotional at the memory. He takes a couple breaths and ends with, “I wasn’t there.”

“You were there for him,” Jaebum counters. “In every way that you could have been at that age, more than others your age even… your grandfather knew how much you loved him.” He says the last part with confidence because it’s easy for Jaebum to feel the strength of Youngjae’s love for his grandfather, and the depth of his grief, from the way he talks about him.

“For months I felt guilty about not being there that night. I was in school so I wasn’t allowed to stay the night except for Friday and Saturday. I was a sophomore in high school, and up to that point, with everything going on my grades weren’t really a priority for me. I wasn’t quite failing yet, but I didn’t care either. But after he passed, I was so incredibly angry at everything and everyone. It was unfair. Why him, you know? There was so much more that I wanted to tell him… that I wanted him to teach me. My mother and grandmother both tried to talk to me, but I didn’t want to listen. I wanted to stay mad at the world. Then one day in literature class, I was actually thinking about skipping but I knew I was already pushing my mom’s limits so for whatever reason, I stayed. I don’t remember the exact wording but my teacher assigned us to write a paper about memory and the five senses. We had to pick one sense that we felt had the strongest tie to memory and write a paper in support of our choice.”

“And you chose hearing,” Jaebum guesses.

“I did. I wrote a paper on music and my grandfather and what it meant to me. How so many moments in my life had a music soundtrack attached. How hearing a certain song on the radio could bring a smile to my face because of the happy memory associated with it, and how I would turn the radio to a different station as soon as the opening bars to a certain song played because it was too painful to listen to it. It was a week later when my teacher returned our papers. There was no grade on mine, just a ‘see me after class’ in red ink. I sat through class getting myself worked up, I already had my speech halfway planned on how I had worked hard on the paper, staying up late to finish it even, and I didn’t deserve to fail.”

“So after class, you went up and…”

“I made an A minus. My teacher, Ms. Baker, she told me she was glad to see that I finally decided to put some real effort into my homework and then she handed me some papers she printed off about music therapy. She said that she thought I might be interested in learning more about it. I read everything she gave me during my next class and when I got home from school that afternoon I researched more. It was then that I started to focus on my studies again. It was like a switch had been flipped, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do.”

Youngjae turns the wooden photo frame that sits on his desk around so that Jaebum can see it. It’s a picture of his grandfather and him, a candid shot that his grandmother had snapped when they were out in the garage tinkering about. He’s wearing a pair of overalls to match with his granddad and his grin shows that he had just lost his front tooth.

“This is my way of keeping my granddad’s spirit alive and to always remember him. Of course the field of music therapy is a lot more complex than just listening and singing along to music, there is actual schooling involved…”

—

It’s been almost a week since he dropped off the filming consent forms and besides another brief email to confirm that he’s still scheduled to come by Friday to interview him, he hasn’t seen or spoken to Jinyoung further. He’s going to wait to ask Jinyoung in person how the patients’ filming approval is coming along and if anyone wants to discuss the documentary more in-depth with him.

He hasn’t been sleeping well. Not since he left New York for Vegas has his sleeping habits been this terrible. It’s been a week with too little sleep and too many dreams. Dreams that turn into nightmares that wake him up in a cold sweat with his heart beating much too fast because it felt so vividly real. He’s tempted to go pick up some over-the-counter sleeping aide, but he refuses to fall into that cycle of codependence again.

It’s well after three in the morning when his body finally succumbs to exhaustion and he drifts into a dream world filled with saints and demons alike, all rooted in memory.

He’s back in Paris. A business trip, for three weeks. The weekends are his to do whatever he wishes, and he uses the free time to explore the city’s art museums. The Louvre is perhaps the most famous one but he finds that he likes the slightly lesser known Musée d’Orsay better. The former railway station turned art museum houses the largest collection of Impressionist and Post-Impressionist masterpieces in the world ranging from greats like Van Gogh, Monet, Renoir, and Cézanne.

He often loses track of time whenever art is involved so he’s not surprised that several hours have passed and it’s late afternoon when he steps back into the direct sunlight. With camera in hand, he strolls along the outside, snapping a couple artistic shots of the museum and the people hurrying toward unknown destinations.

He’s debating between visiting another museum — Musée de l’Orangerie, specifically to see the two oval rooms that display eight of Monet’s famed _Nymphéas_ — or to save it for another time when he sees Jinyoung walking toward him which is weird because it’s daytime, much too soon for him to be dreaming. He blinks, the sun bright in his eyes, and the man that is Jinyoung steps closer into view and he sees that he’s mistaken. It’s not Jinyoung, it’s just someone who looks eerily similar.

The guy introduces himself as Minjoon. A graduate student studying in Paris for the semester. Korean. Minjoon is noticeably excited to meet another Korean while abroad, while Jaebum is disconcerted to see someone that looks like he could be Jinyoung’s long lost twin. Disconcerted but when Minjoon asks if he would be interested in taking their conversation to a nearby eatery, he finds himself saying yes without hesitation.

And as the sun begins to set, the sky turning a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and yellows, neither of them put any real effort into saying goodbye and parting ways. Taking a walk after dinner, they stop to browse in a few shops, before ending their night at a little cafe. They sit outside to enjoy the Parisian springtime, the night breeze sweet and cool, and eat dessert sans coffee due to the late hour. The Eiffel Tower can be seen far off into the distance, a beacon in the night all brightly lit and twinkling.

“I take it you like your dessert?” Jaebum asks, pointing to Minjoon’s plate where only a few bites remain of his crêpes filled with chocolate and berries and topped with a dusting of powdered sugar. He had already finished the crème brûlée he ordered.

Minjoon pops a sliced strawberry into his mouth and nods. “It’s delicious. Thanks for the recommendation.” He takes another bite, and then looking at Jaebum he scoops up his dessert, making sure the bite contains an equal amount of all the good stuff, and brings the fork to Jaebum’s mouth. “Here, I’ll even be nice and share,” he offers with a grin and a hint of playfulness.

It’s something Jinyoung would do, he thinks. The smile and mischievous glint in his eyes is so fucking uncannily like Jinyoung that it takes his breath away. Of course half the time Jinyoung would choose to be a tease and take the offered sweet back and eat it himself at the very last second. Jinyoung and his fondness for sweet things was a force to be reckoned with, and his soft spot for Jinyoung meant that he never minded.

He’s a little too caught up in memories until he hears Minjoon speak, apologizing for crossing a line, his cheeks beginning to flush a bright pink and it makes Jaebum feel badly. He catches Minjoon’s hand mid-air that holds the fork and brings it to his mouth again, eating the sweet offered.

It’s not like Minjoon’s been that subtle in his attraction toward him, and it’s not like he’s discouraged the attention either. It’s obvious by Minjoon’s body language — standing a little too close, brushing hands as they strolled along the Parisian streets, his eyes that not-so-discreetly checked him out — that he’s interested in something more than just dinner and dessert.

He pays the bill, like he did for dinner before, and takes Minjoon’s hand in his to link their fingers together. “Why don’t we go back to my hotel?”

It’s a few hours later when he hears Jinyoung’s voice calling him. He’s lost in dreamland, and wanting to stay there, he grabs his pillow, throwing it over his head to minimize the voice of his best friend who wishes to disturb his sleep.

“Jaebum… Bummie, Bummie, Bummie… Bummie hyung!” Jinyoung singsongs in a much-too-cheerful for this hour voice. “Come on, wake up sleeping beauty. You told me last night to make sure you were up by seven and here it is seven oh six and you’re still ignoring me,” Jinyoung grumbles, grabbing the pillow and throwing it toward the bottom of the bed out of his friend’s reach.

“Hey! I was using that!” He rolls onto his back and opens his eyes to glare at Jinyoung. “Five more minutes please, for all the love you claim to have for me… please… I stayed up until six this morning studying.”

Jinyoung looks at him and sighs, giving in. “Fine, ten more minutes, but if you’re not up then I’m going to fill a bucket with ice cold water and toss it on you!”

Jaebum frowns. “Don’t be mean,” he whines. “I’m tired.”

“I know, but you still have an eight a.m. class to attend, the one where you have to take that test you stayed up late studying for.” Before leaving the room, Jinyoung grabs the pillow and hands it back to Jaebum. “I’ll be back,” he warns, then adds in a softer voice, “I’m making breakfast. All your favorites.”

The scene changes and he’s still in bed, but this time instead of college-age him, he’s ten years old. It’s the summer he broke his arm. He’s reading a manga ( _Inuyasha_ ) Jinyoung had brought him the week before and missing the other boy. Jinyoung had called him a couple nights ago to apologize, telling him that he wouldn’t be able to visit since his grandparents were in town.

“Jaebum hyung! Did you miss me? Huh, did you? It feels like it’s been for-EVER since I came over!” Jinyoung comes barging into his bedroom, much like an excited puppy that’s been alone all day and whose owner just came home.

Seeing Jinyoung makes him want to smile, but since he’d just been pouting earlier about missing his best friend he decides it’s only fair to have a bit of fun first.

“Do I know you? You _do_ look familiar, but… I mean…”

Jinyoung stops in his tracks and frowns, his head tilted slightly to the side as he studies his best friend’s face. “Aw hyung, don’t do that to me. You know I wanted to come see you!” He takes his backpack off and lets it drop to the floor.

Jaebum ends up cracking a smile because it’s useless to pretend to be mad at the other boy. He could never be upset with Jinyoung, it was impossible. “I know, I was just playing,” he says, closing the comic he was reading and placing it on the nightstand by his bed. “I thought your grandparents were still in town for a few more days?”

“They are,” Jinyoung replies, while looking around his friend’s room to see if he needed any help cleaning it. “My grandmother asked why I was looking so down today and I told her that I hadn’t gotten to see you since they came into town. And when I explained that you broke your arm while saving me—”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal.” He feels embarrassed that Jinyoung kept making him sound like some superhero, and when Jinyoung wasn’t doing that, he kept apologizing to him over and over and that was just as bad.

“It was too! And my grandmother agreed and told my mom that you shouldn’t keep a boy from his best friend, especially not one who saved my grandson.” Jinyoung imitates his grandmother’s voice making Jaebum laugh. “She even drove me herself, and—” he stops to pick up his backpack and unzip it to pull out a tupperware container full of chocolate chip cookies, “she made these for you before we came over. Freshly baked!”

“I always knew your grandmother loved me best.” Jaebum grins and reaches for the container, making ‘gimme’ hands at Jinyoung.

“Hey, now… she’s my grandmother, so she should love me best. But you’re definitely a close second.” Jaebum grabs a cookie and offers the opened container to Jinyoung who shakes his head no. “They’re all yours. Besides I ate a couple. Taste testing,” he says before Jaebum could complain.

“Your grandmother is a really great baker,” Jaebum tells him after finishing off the cookie. He could easily eat a dozen, but knows his mother wouldn’t like that.

“Maybe I’ll have my grandmother teach me,” Jinyoung says, considering the idea.

“I didn’t think you would be interested in baking,” Jaebum teases his friend.

“I’m not.” Jinyoung shrugs. “Well not really, but you seem to like them so I’ll learn for you and that way I can always make you cookies whenever you want.”

“That sounds nice. Come here, sit down.” He pats the empty spot on the bed next to him. He knows Jinyoung still feels guilty about his injury and knows his friend is being extra careful anytime he comes near him. Jinyoung always hangs back at a distance, until Jaebum makes a big enough fuss that Jinyoung finally gives into his demands. Jinyoung looks hesitant and he pouts. “I’ve missed you.”

Jinyoung grins at that. “Of course you would, I am super cool after all.”

“Well I wouldn’t go _that_ far,” Jaebum jokes back as Jinyoung steps closer and takes a seat carefully on Jaebum’s bed.

“See that’s the problem, you’re not cool enough to recognize how amazingly awesome I am,” Jinyoung tosses back and before long they fall into their easy rhythm of teasing and joking around with each other.

It’s a little while later during a lull in their conversation that Jinyoung asks the important question. “How’s your arm today?”

“Still broken.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “Quit being a smart—” he stops to glance back at the opened door and seeing no adults around continues, “a. s. s.”

“You rebel, you.”

“Seriously, come on. You had a doctor’s appointment today, right?” Jaebum nods. “What did he say?”

“He wasn’t ready to take the cast off, which is what I was hoping for. It itches like crazy, and I can’t properly scratch and not thinking about it… uh, how many times has my mother told me not to think about it? When you’re itching that bad and there’s no relief, there’s no way to _not_ think about it. It’s like Murphy’s Law or something!”

Jinyoung’s heard this rant before (a few times in fact) but nods his head in sympathy. “I’m sorry. Do you know how long he thinks you’ll have to wear the cast?”

“I’ve got another appointment next week, and he says maybe I can have it removed then. God I hope so! I’ll still need to be careful and everything, maybe keep it in a sling for a while. Will possibly need some PT.” He makes a disgruntled face at the idea. He would very much like to avoid more doctors and hospitals. It’s his summer vacation after all.

“PT?”

“Physical therapy.” Thinking of an idea, he adds, “Hey, maybe you can come with me some days?” He thinks it would be much more fun if Jinyoung could be there too.

“Would that be allowed?”

“It should be. You’re my best friend. I need support and stuff,” Jaebum claims.

Jinyoung grins. “If it’s okay with your mom and mine, I’ll come to your therapy appointments. We’re best friends. Forever, right?”

“Forever,” Jaebum echoes as Jinyoung’s smiling cherub face changes and morphs into adult Jinyoung.

Jinyoung is standing before him right in the middle of Parker Center. His eyes filled with disappointment and accusation.

“You said we’d be best friends forever.”

“You promised.”

“Liar.”

“Why did you do that?”

“JB,” Jinyoung scoffs in disgust. “What happened to Jaebum Im, my best friend? The one that said he would always be there for me?”

He stands motionless, letting Jinyoung fling words at him, without trying to deny or make excuses. There are no excuses to be made. There are no words to right the wrongs.

The scene shifts again and this time he’s in Seoul. On a job, filming a music video for an up-and-coming idol group. There’s a flurry of activity and cacophony of noise surrounding him as he works to organize the set. He calls for a short break for the idols to rest and recharge before their next dance sequence.

Turning to find his assistant, he sees Jinyoung instead, standing off in the distance just staring straight through him. His facial expression filled with sadness.

“Jaebum… hyung, don’t you miss me?”

“Of course I do.” He misses Jinyoung more than all the words combined in the dictionary. He walks forward, wanting to reach out and touch Jinyoung, but with each step he takes toward his friend, Jinyoung takes a step backward.

“Too bad. I don’t miss you,” Jinyoung says before disappearing into nothingness.

He stands alone for a long time and then he’s in front of his college apartment. The one he shared with Jinyoung. He’s got his hands full of books and he barely manages to get the door open. But he does and then he sees Jinyoung crying and it’s like a punch in his stomach. He doesn’t understand how everyone can be smiling when Jinyoung has been crying.

There are champagne flutes — champagne bubbles never fail to make his nose twitch in reflex.

“Jaebum, Jaebummie hyuuuung, my lovely Bummmmmiiiieee.” His books drop to the floor. Jinyoung’s kiss, his smile. “I love you!”

Jinyoung engaged to be married. Not to him, never to him, but to Mark.

His heart breaking, bleeding both inside and out.

Tears that fall and keep falling until the sky opens up to share his pain. A rain storm, outside a bar without an umbrella. It’s not like he feels anything anyway. He’s much too numb, but he finds that that thought doesn’t really scare him. He’s like Pinocchio, a puppet made of wood. But unlike the puppet, he doesn’t want to be a real boy.

A door opens.

Jinyoung is there, worried—

“Jaebum, Jaebum. Wake up… please, it’s not real.” The voice is loud and insistent, but it’s the feeling of being shaken that helps pull him back to the present. He opens his eyes and blinks owlishly at the bright light of the bedside lamp in his Paris hotel room. He sees Jin—no, Minjoon staring down at him with worry.

“I’m sorry, you seemed to be having a bad dream,” Minjoon says in way of explanation.

He rubs a tired hand across his face, as if trying to erase the remnants of the dream from his mind. Seeing that Minjoon is already dressed, he frowns and glances at the bedside clock. It reads a quarter after five. “Do you have somewhere you need to be this morning?”

“No, I just thought you wouldn’t want me to be here when you woke up. I thought maybe—”

“Don’t think,” Jaebum softly interrupts, rising from his sleeping position and leaning toward the younger man. He places a hand around the back of Minjoon’s neck to bring him closer. “Come back to bed,” he murmurs before kissing Minjoon who is most definitely not Jinyoung.

But he doesn’t care, not right now, not when he’s drowning in memories best forgotten.

Not wanting to think anymore, he loses himself in the feeling of Minjoon’s lips on his and Minjoon’s hands on his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was incredibly hard to write.
> 
> To try and minimize potential confusion >> that whole last scene is basically a dream within a dream, there are time jumps and scene changes, there are things that happened and things that didn't... it's both dream and nightmare. Minjoon in Paris happened, but it happened in the past.... that part is not current/present day. Jaebum is still in New York City.
> 
> Comments/feedback/constructive criticism are much appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I make a comeback, I really make a comeback. This chapter is 11500+ words.
> 
> Without my good friend Google, this chapter wouldn’t have happened. If there are mistakes (especially music therapy or medical-related) I apologize and let’s chalk it up to artistic license.

_It’s amazing_  
_How you make your face just like a wall_  
_How you take your heart and turn it off_  
_How I turn my head and lose it all_

“Leave” by Matchbox Twenty

—

_I’m okay (I’m not okay)_  
_I don’t want to see you (I really want to see you)_  
_With words I don’t even mean_  
_Even if they’re lies, I need to say it_

“Don’t Wanna Cry” by Seventeen

—

_And given half the chance would I take any of it back?_  
_It’s a fine romance but it’s left me so undone_  
_It’s always darkest before the dawn_

_//_

_And I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hope_  
_It’s a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat_  
_‘Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me_

“Shake It Out” by Florence + The Machine

_____________

Despite splitting his time between two documentaries, his team has taken to calling him their MVP.

He’s a bit embarrassed about the nickname since he thinks they’re being far too kind and making a big deal out of his contribution, but at the same time he’s happy they feel he is pulling his weight and not using the music therapy documentary as an excuse to slack off. He is lucky he’s had a good, varied background in the industry and it’s thanks to that — and not that he’s doing something amazing — that is making him his group’s hero. While living in Korea, he worked with a few top entertainment companies and because he found it beneficial from a career standpoint to end things on a positive note his group has several people lined up more-than-willing to be interviewed as a personal favor to him.

In addition to working with his teammates on the foreign music markets film and meeting with professors in the NYU music therapy department, he posts a sign-up sheet for current students in the program to join a group discussion he plans to conduct for the film. The following week a conference is scheduled at the school, for other professors around the nation and a few from overseas to come and discuss their field and he’s already been invited by the NYU department head to attend.

He’s kept Nathan and Ian in the loop and well-informed, and they both seem pleased and impressed with his current work and the progress he’s made.

It makes him happy that at least his work life is going well because he feels his personal life is going to hell.

—

It’s Friday, the day of his first official interview with Jinyoung — _no, Junior_ , the voice in his head reminds him with an annoying amount of glee and he wonders briefly (again, for the twentieth time) if he’ll ever get use to the name but then that voice, that damn voice, jeers at him with a _like you need to get use to it? hah, wishful thinking buddy… after this documentary’s over it’s not like you’ll ever see him again._

The truth still stings.

Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, toothbrush hanging halfway out his mouth, he stares at himself, hating how obnoxiously obvious it is that his sleeping habits have turned to complete and utter shit. Dark circles underneath his eyes, the heavy weight of exhaustion his face carries, are like road signs pointing to each sleepless night he’s had lately.

The night before he stopped by the drugstore a couple blocks from his apartment to finally put use to the knowledge he learned from the kpop scene. The embarrassment he’d gotten from being the lone guy in the makeup aisle lasted only a tiny second before he started his search for the perfect shade of concealer. Just in case. It’s not vanity, he tells himself. It’s just, he should look presentable on camera. That’s all. It’s expected.

He doesn’t care about looking nice for Jinyoung ( _Junior_ , that voice again), not at all.

It doesn’t matter what Jinyoung ( _Junior_ , louder and more grating this time) thinks, not at all.

Of course, it’s lies. And more lies. Too many lies. Nothing but lies. Enough lies, perhaps, to span the distance between him and Jinyoung ( _Jun_ — fuck it, he tells the voice in his head).

—

On the way to the elevators he runs into Youngjae and he smiles, seeing the familiar face. “We really should stop meeting like this,” Jaebum says.

“Well, you are coming to my workplace, so…” Youngjae’s voice trails off as his hands make a ‘what’d you expect’ half-shrug gesture.

“That is true,” he concedes with a short laugh. “Going up?” he inquires but doesn’t move to push the corresponding arrow.

Youngjae lets out an exaggerated groan. “Yes technically, but no.” At Jaebum’s perplexed expression, he shows off the newest accessory he’s sporting on his left wrist. A Fitbit. “My youngest sister challenged me to a who can walk more steps in a two-week period contest so unfortunately it’s stairs for me for the foreseeable future.”

“It’ll be good exercise for you,” Jaebum states the obvious, then trying to be more positive, he adds, “This way you don’t need to worry about going to the gym before or after work.”

“Do I look like someone who goes to the gym? Wait, nevermind don’t answer that,” Youngjae pleads with a sheepish grin.

“Okay, I won’t.” His solemn tone is belied by his lips quirking up in merriment. “What’s on the line for the winner of this challenge?”

“My little sister wants a purse.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“It’s designer.”

“Ouch your wallet,” he sympathizes. “What do you get out of it if you win?”

“Thankfully she’s taking pity on me and it’s at some outlet type of place so it’s not ridiculously expensive,” Youngjae reveals. “At least that’s according to my sister and what she promised. As for what I get, she’s still in school so all I want is something simple like a dinner out together. But between you and me, I don’t care much about the prize, because it’s really my pride that’s on the line.”

Laughing, Jaebum pushes the up button. As much as he’s enjoying the conversation, he has an interview to get to and Youngjae has stairs to conquer and work to do. “Good luck,” he encourages.

“Thanks, I’ll need it and then some.” The elevator dings, indicating its impending arrival, and the doors open a second later. “Go on, I’ll see you around.”

With a nod and quick wave goodbye, he enters the elevator, thankful to find it empty for once, and leans back against the wall. He thinks he could use some luck right about now too.

—

By the time he reaches Jinyoung’s office, the knot in his stomach that had loosened while talking to Youngjae tightens again, making him wish he’d eaten something a little more substantial for breakfast. Then again, more food could have been a worse choice.

The door is open. Jinyoung’s on the phone though, leaving him to stand outside the doorway uncertain what he should do until Jinyoung glances up and spots him. He motions for him to come in and sit.

He keeps quiet as he deposits his film equipment in one corner of the room before taking a seat across from the boy who use to love him (like a friend) and who no longer does. It’s that line of thinking that will do him no good, not right now, not when he’s embarrassingly close to throwing up the little he had eaten for breakfast. With a concerted effort he pushes those thoughts away and focuses on his task at hand. He’s good at what he does — it’s not arrogance that makes him say that, because he knows behind his expertise lies countless hours of hard work he put into learning — and once the camera starts to roll, Jaebum Im will become JB, the guy whose heart hadn’t been badly bruised and shattered like glass.

It takes only a few minutes longer for Jinyoung to finish his call and once he does, he apologizes with a small, but professional smile. “Sorry about that, it took longer than I thought it would. On the other hand I do have some good news to share. I managed to get the permission of several patients and their families. They’ll allow you to film their therapy sessions as well as interview them.”

“That’s great, thank you. You worked quickly.”

“Just doing my job as the official liaison between Parker Center and you,” Jinyoung returns evenly. “But I would like to set up an informal meeting first. To give those who want to come a chance to meet you before you start filming, that way hopefully everyone will be more comfortable when filming begins. They’ll be able to ask any questions they still may have, and you’ll be able to explain in more detail about your process and what they can expect.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jaebum is quick to agree. “Is there a particular day or time you’re thinking would work best?”

“That’s what the phone call was about. I still need to call a few others, but for the moment, it looks like possibly next Wednesday. Afternoon time, probably some time after two o’clock.” Resolving to finalize details later, Jinyoung switches gears slightly. “As for today, this interview… I realize I should have asked earlier, but are there any guidelines I need to follow? Is this strictly a you ask a question, then I answer back-and-forth type of interview?”

His meeting with NYU professors had been a more formal style, and while it had been informative, it came close to sounding textbook tedious at times. “If it makes you more comfortable then yes I can start with a Q&A, but I would prefer to keep this interview from sounding like an interview. I rather have it be relaxed and open. This is your field of expertise, this is what you do on a daily basis. I want you to tell me what you think I — and people who watch this later, those who are learning about music therapy for the first time — should know. What makes music so special that there’s a therapy solely based on it? Don’t worry about jumping topics or saying too much, that’s all part of my job in the editing room. To shift through the material and make it into one complete film.”

Jinyoung appears satisfied with his answer and rises to close his office door, while Jaebum sets up everything needed to film.

The interview starts terribly stilted and just shy of awkward, and just when he’s about to say something — what he’s not sure, maybe something like this is a mistake — Jinyoung surprises him by suggesting they play a game.

Thanks to his years of working in many unexpected situations, the sudden suggestion doesn’t throw him. He agrees, curious to see what Jinyoung plans.

“I’ll name a song and I want to see if and how quickly you can name the movie it’s associated with,” Jinyoung says in way of explanation. “I’ll start with an easy one. It’s from a 1939 movie—”

“1939 is you taking it easy on me?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll know it,” Jinyoung assures him with confidence. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

“ _The Wizard of Oz._ ” By the sixth example, “My Heart Will Go On,” and his subsequent answer, _Titanic_ , they settle into a more comfortable pattern. He’s not surprised that Jinyoung’s a natural in front of the camera — back in college, when he needed an extra hand with his filming projects Jinyoung often helped — and he’s glad to find it’s still true. At least in a professional capacity, working with Jinyoung won’t be a failure of epic proportions.

“Eye of the Tiger.”

“ _Rocky_ , but I can’t remember which one,” Jaebum admits with a slight frown.

“Close enough, I’ll still count it. It’s _Rocky III_. Now this one, this song you probably shouldn’t know, but I bet you do thanks to its massive worldwide success.”

Jaebum tries to think of a movie he shouldn’t be familiar with, but once Jinyoung names the song it all makes sense. “Ah that song. I’m not sure there’s anyone out there that hasn’t heard it at least once; honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me astronauts in space were singing it,” he quips. “What is _Frozen_ for the win?” he answers in true Jeopardy-fashion.

“Correct. If you were playing Jeopardy, you’d be doing very well.” Jinyoung picks up on his previous answer style. “You were able to answer within a few seconds after each song title I named. Since you’re in film, some people may say it’s obvious you’d be more familiar with the medium and that’s true. But I’m equally sure that we could go out on the streets of New York and play the same game with similar results,” Jinyoung asserts. “You also have movie scenes with music, like that of a young Tom Cruise sliding across the floor pant-less and jamming to Segar’s “Old Time Rock ‘N Roll” or the pottery scene in _Ghost_ with “Unchained Melody” playing in the background. These are classic scenes that have been watched and parodied so many times that it makes you wonder if the film, the scene, would have been as iconic as it is… would it have stuck in the minds of so many without that song playing?”

Jaebum mentions the effectiveness of musical scores in film.

“Take Hermann’s _Psycho_ or what John Williams did in _Jaws_. With _Jaws_ , it’s the use of the two-note ostinato, or repeating musical motif,” he adds the last part not for Jinyoung’s benefit but for those who’d watch the documentary later and not be familiar with the term. “It taps into the audience’s primal fears in a hypnotic, paralyzing way. Just by hearing those first few opening bars, someone can immediately identify the film because it essentially became a part of American pop culture and outgrew the film itself.”

After films, they shift their attention to the small screen, talking about how a show’s theme song can be nearly as memorable as the show. The eighties had _The Golden Girls_ , “Thank You for Being a Friend,” while the nineties included The Rembrandts singing, “I’ll Be There for You” for _Friends_ as well as the super-catchy tune to _The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air_ — a song nineties kids can still sing along to many years later.

“Take Me Out to the Ball Game” segues into briefly covering sports.

“At any given football game, there are literally thousands of fans ready to cheer on their home team to victory and what do stadiums use to keep them pumped up and full of excitement until kickoff starts? Music.” Jinyoung asks and answers his own question. “Queen’s “We Will Rock You” will start playing, and it’s almost like clockwork how the crowd erupts wildly and starts to sing along. It’s a song from the late seventies, but it’s become such a stadium staple that it can bring together a diverse group of people, all ages, and keep them energized in spite of the blistering heat or freezing cold temps.”

Next is a discussion on how something as simple as hearing your favorite song on the radio can make you feel better when you’re having a bad day. Music makes you feel something, it moves you. Fast peppy songs can make you smile and cause you to break out into a spontaneous dance around your living room floor. While going through a breakup, someone might blast sappy love songs or angry rock music depending on the situation. Whatever emotion you’re feeling, music covers it.

“Music is something that’s intricately woven into the fabric of our lives from the moment we are born,” Jinyoung relays. “A parent will soothe their crying baby with a lullaby. There are nursery rhymes and learning the ABCs through singing a song. As we get older, we become more and more exposed to a wider range of music and discover our own likes and dislikes. Music isn’t just something we listen to and enjoy, it becomes a part of who we are as well. It defines generations, it helps define moments in our lives. When tragedies occur, often you’ll hear about artists doing benefit concerts or releasing a single song to raise money. Why? It’s simple. Music is healing. It brings individuals together during a time when they’re trying to make sense out of senseless acts. When it seems like there are no words to help, music steps in and allows us to express our sorrow and grief through a common bond.

Eventually Jaebum starts to narrow the conversation toward music therapy.

“I’m sure we’ve all heard people say things like they’re in need of some serious retail therapy while others advocate the benefits of going to the gym by saying that exercise is their therapy. Music is my therapy is another popular phrase. What are your thoughts on that?”

“Expressions come about for a reason, right? Studies have shown that exercise can help fight depression because it promotes changes in the brain like neural growth, reduces inflammation, and releases endorphins. Endorphins, of course, are chemicals in your brain that act to energize you and make you feel good. So it’s easy to understand how someone could make the connection between running and feeling happier,” Jinyoung explains. “I think to answer your question though, the word therapy is thrown around too easily these days and it’s not always used correctly which is a major problem. But perhaps if you’re looking at things from a glass half-full perspective, the more people talk about therapy, maybe it can eventually help lessen the stigma of needing therapy and living with mental illnesses.”

Jaebum agrees and hopes that will be the case too. He knows in the US and many parts of the world, there is still much to be done in order for the general public to have a greater empathy for and understanding of mental health and people coping with disabilities.

“When someone says music is therapeutic, as a music therapist I’d naturally agree,” Jinyoung continues. “But I think the important distinction lies in realizing that music therapy is much more complex and in-depth than just having a bad day and listening to your favorite band. There’s schooling, degrees, clinical training, and certification involved. Not only are music therapists proficient in music and with musical instruments, we’re also required to be knowledgeable in the areas of psychology and medicine.”

“A psychologist playing music for a patient wouldn’t be considered music therapy, right?” Jaebum questions. “Even though obviously they’re well-versed in both psychology and medicine.”

“Correct. A psychologist could play music for a patient, sure, but that’s not the same as music therapy. Music therapy is more intricate and nuanced than that example. We meet with individuals to form a therapeutic relationship and our goal is to address their needs. Be it physical, emotional, cognitive, or social. We then assess their strengths and needs and come up with a treatment plan, a plan that may include a combination of singing, creating, moving to, and listening to music.”

“If you have a roomful of patients who have the same illness or same needs, will the treatment plan be the same?”

“No, not necessarily. There will certainly be similarities but you have to remember that even if they have the same illness or needs to be met, each individual is unique,” Jinyoung answers. “Each patient that I treat, I treat them as an individual first and foremost. So much of the time, you’ll see that these are people who have been lumped into certain categories and treated as such, and that’s not right. It’s important for music therapists to not have such a narrow-minded approach when coming up with treatment plans for patients. What works really well and proves successful for one individual with autism may work decently for another autistic child so you see no reason to change your method. Then say six months later, you decide to try something a little different with that second child and it’s a much better fit for your patient.”

“Which is why you should treat patients as individuals with their own set of unique needs, because you could have been using that second plan all along and it could have made a marked difference earlier,” Jaebum concludes.

“Exactly. Schooling is vital of course and the knowledge you gain, but it’s the clinical training and hands-on experience as a music therapist — meeting countless patients and assessing their different needs — that really helps establish the importance of treating the person first and also being open to improvisation. You can have a great treatment plan in place and you’re going to follow that to a certain extent, but there will be some days where you might need to quickly devise a new game plan to better suit a patient’s mood or physical limitation they might be experiencing.”

“You mentioned autism previously, but music therapy can be used as part of a treatment for people suffering from a variety of ailments and disorders. What are some others?”

“A music therapist can work with special needs kids who have developmental disabilities as well as kids with behavioral problems. We help elderly patients who suffer from dementia or Alzheimers,” Jinyoung starts to list. “We may have cases of someone who has cerebral palsy or muscular dystrophy. Another patient may suffer from depression or be bipolar schizophrenic. I’ve worked with individuals who had strokes or suffered from a brain injury. We often see cancer patients as well. Music therapy is extremely versatile and it’s amazing what it can accomplish and the positive effects and benefits it can produce. Doctors and medication can be essential for a person’s care and treatment, but it’s also important to see beyond the medical charts, the numbers and statistics, and really focus on the entire well-being of the patient.”

“Speaking of doctors, everyone knows when you’re sick with the flu you visit your physician but music therapy is something different, it’s something the general public knows very little about, so what is the process for someone to find a music therapist to treat them?” Jaebum asks next. “Is it strictly through a doctor’s referral?”

“Most often people are referred by their doctors,” Jinyoung confirms with a nod. “But one of the great things about technology and the internet is with a few simple keystrokes, countless forums and message boards are right at your fingertips, readily available to anyone with a wi-fi connection. After someone’s been diagnosed with an illness or if it’s a family member — especially a young child — it’s quite common to do more research, trying to seek answers to make sense of the new medical jargon that’s been thrown at you from all sides. And maybe someone posted something about a thing called music therapy, and someone else reads it and decides they’re interested in learning more about it as part of their treatment.”

They run over the one-hour mark Jinyoung had promised to set aside by ten minutes because Jaebum asks him about his typical work week.

Majority of his patients are seen at Parker Center, those that reside on the premises, as well as out-patients who come in for sessions. If an out-patient is unable to come in for an extended period, he makes home and hospital visits or sets them up with another therapist who can. The hospital, occasionally the school too, may request that he come by to meet with someone and start a preliminary consultation. Three of his days are mostly filled with one-on-one therapy appointments while two days are devoted to group sessions.

—

The Wednesday afternoon meeting with the patients and their families goes smoothly. Jinyoung is there to make the initial introductions, but after that he lets him do most of the talking and answering of any questions.

Before he leaves Parker Center, they set Friday as his first official date to film therapy sessions.

—

Following a group therapy meeting of patients with dementia and Alzheimer’s, he films Jinyoung explaining a bit about why researchers believe music therapy can be beneficial to those patients.

For those who suffer from Alzheimer’s, musical talent and a love of music are two abilities that remain last, and because of that, it’s a great way to connect with them when all other avenues fail. Music is something that moves people, it makes them feel something, and emotions can evoke forgotten memories.

Music helps to stimulate much of the brain by engaging the individual in a multitude of ways. The left side of the brain is activated when singing, while listening to music sparks activity in the right, and participating and watching the class helps activate the visual areas of the brain.

Music, when used in therapy, can help shift mood and manage agitation due to stress. It encourages positive interactions, facilitates cognitive function, and coordinates motor movements.

—

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Never before had Charles Dickens seemed to perfectly embody his life as it does on the days that he meets Jinyoung.

He thinks he really should have been more careful what he wished for so many nights during those seven years apart. He had thought, stupidly (always stupidly), if he could see Jinyoung one more time, just one more time, that he wouldn’t need to ask for more. Everything in his world, the world that felt like it had turned upside down and inside out, would be okay again if he could see Jinyoung. It wouldn’t matter if it was an hour, or just a few seconds.

Seeing him would be more than enough.

That’s what he had thought, that’s what he had wished for.

Countless nights, skies full of stars and starless skies alike, he would lie awake and wish he could see Jinyoung again.

And now, his wish had been granted.

Everything should be all right, except it isn’t. It isn’t all right, it isn’t okay, and it definitely is nowhere close to enough. He quickly learns that he’s a greedy bastard, and simply seeing Jinyoung isn’t enough to satisfy him. Not when he had more. He had more of Jinyoung and he lost everything in the mess he made.

So he sees Jinyoung and it’s the sweetest, bitterest form of torment he has ever known. Seeing Jinyoung, being within touching distance of Jinyoung, is as amazing as it is painful. There’s a distance between the two of them; invisible, unspoken, but clearly there. It’s an impenetrable defense Jinyoung has built in front of himself, a wall that Jaebum cannot climb over or obliterate because he does not have the right to do so. So he sees and greets Jinyoung and everything, their conversations and interactions, seems perfectly perfect. (Almost perhaps, too perfect.)

It’s like that metaphor with the duck. On the surface, for everyone to see, the duck glides effortlessly across the pond, but it’s underneath the water that tells a much different story. Under the surface, its feet are paddling like mad.

And that’s exactly how he feels. He’s paddling like mad, just to stay afloat (to keep it together, to not break), afraid that if he stops even for a moment, he’ll drown.

—

He continues dividing his time between the two documentaries and keeping his bosses well-updated on his solo project.

Each time he sets up his equipment and films one of Jinyoung’s therapy sessions, especially the individual ones, it never ceases to amaze him how great Jinyoung is at his job. It’s clear that the job is not just a job to him, it’s his calling. The patients love him and respond well to his musical cues, and he’s had the chance to capture some really great moments for the documentary. It had been a long time since he watched Jinyoung play the piano, the way he played always a mix of raw talent and boyish charm, or heard him sing. (He tries hard to avoid thinking about past memories. About how he’d wake up in the morning to find Jinyoung already making breakfast for the two of them and singing along to the song playing through his iPhone, or how Jinyoung had the tendency, after a few drinks, to belt out the chorus of a current hit song.)

At the end of each session, Jinyoung would talk about the specific illness or patient need and explain how music therapy could help treat them.

Group therapy typically ranged from four to eight patients and Youngjae often assisted Jinyoung for the larger sessions. It’s after one of these group sessions that he overhears a conversation between the two. He’s packing his camera equipment and film when he hears his name.

“Have you noticed JB has an admirer?” It’s Youngjae who asks the question.

He doesn’t hear Jinyoung’s answer but sees his nod.

“I think that’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Youngjae again with a hint of hope in his voice.

Jinyoung says that he isn’t sure, and Jaebum isn’t sure if Jinyoung would have said more if he hadn’t caught him looking in their direction. Using the excuse of needing to catch up on paperwork, Jinyoung leaves and Youngjae walks over toward him as he packs his last item.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Jaebum apologies. “I just heard my name and looked up.”

“What? No, that’s fine. It’s not a big deal,” Youngjae assures him. “I was just pointing out to Junior that it seems Daehyun is a bit taken with you. Well maybe not you-you but more like what you’re doing and all your film stuff.”

“Daehyun is the kid with black hair who kept quiet most of the time?”

Youngjae smiles, nodding. “Yep that’s him. For the first six months after I started here at the Center, I shadowed and assisted Jinyoung, and it’s Daehyun who he assigned to be my first patient that I was in charge of. He lives here and he doesn’t have any close family. I don’t know, he’s just— Daehyun. I have a soft spot for him.”

Jaebum doesn’t see any harm in that and says as much to Youngjae.

“I mean I probably shouldn’t go around saying I have a favorite patient, right?”

Jaebum considers it. “Well, just because Daehyun is special to you, do you treat other patients differently or with less care?”

“Of course not,” Youngjae rushes his reply, like he’s upset at the thought of not giving his best one-hundred percent of the time.

“That’s what I thought,” Jaebum tells him. “I’ve watched you work with patients during the therapy sessions, you’re good at what you do. Don’t doubt yourself. You care a lot and it shows.”

Youngjae murmurs his thanks and ducks his head in a moment of shyness.

—

He quickly discovers that Jinyoung had been right when he stated not all therapy sessions produce the same, or even great, results. There are both good and bad moments and days for each patient. The days though where he can see the patient connect with Jinyoung — to witness the way music can bring about such a positive reaction in a patient — it’s pretty amazing. And he wants to capture it all, even if it’s for a short period of time; the miracle of music healing those in need and suffering.

The first time he talked to Ian about making a documentary focused on music therapy, he hadn’t thought through all the finer details and logistics, like how long he planned to take to shoot everything he wanted. He figured he’d interview a few people in the field (teachers and actual therapists) and try to get permission to talk to and film therapy sessions if possible (he knew the medical field could be notoriously strict, and for good reason, when it came to patient confidentiality clauses with HIPPA and all that).

And now that he’s started filming, the more he wants to continue to film. But that’s not possible, he has other work obligations and he cannot expect Parker Center to give him the okay to film indefinitely.

By talking with Mr. Baldwin and both his bosses, together they agree on a three-month long shoot. Then it’ll take at least a couple of weeks to properly edit the film, possibly longer since he’s working alone.

—

Shortly after he enters Parker Center he runs into Jinyoung on his way out, which is odd considering they had a standing film date set.

“JB, you’re here.”

Normally, before everything went to hell between them, he would have said something teasing about how great Jinyoung’s observational skills were, that they easily rivaled those of Sherlock Holmes. But he doesn’t say those things because it’s not something they do anymore. His skills are just as good, and he sees that Jinyoung seems a little too tired. It churns up those protective instincts — the ones he thought he had buried far underneath the ground never to see the light of day again — and he has to make a conscious effort to tamp down the feelings. Otherwise he’ll do something entirely stupid like reach out and pull Jinyoung into a comforting hug.

“I take it you didn’t check your email.”

“I usually do but today’s been non-stop and I was rushing here, thinking I was going to be late, but traffic turned out not to be too bad.” Jaebum fishes his phone out of his pocket as he talks and punches a few buttons to pull up his inbox. He sees the email from Jinyoung, sent nearly four hours ago, that asked if he could cancel the day’s filming. “Sorry. I guess I’ll go then, just let me know if there will be any other changes for the rest of the week.”

“It wasn’t much notice, sorry about that. Maybe I should have called instead?” Jinyoung seems a little uncertain as he stands in front of Jaebum, like he’s debating something in his mind. And when Jaebum moves to leave, he speaks again. “The session you were supposed to film today, I’m still doing that. It’s just the location that has changed. It’s a home visit.”

He nods in understanding, even if he isn’t sure why Jinyoung is telling him since one of the first things he promised to do was to work around Jinyoung’s schedule and his patients’ needs. “Home visits must be a completely different set-up from having a therapy session here at Parker Center.”

Again brief hesitation and then, “If you want, you can come. I mean you already drove out here to film, and it’s kind of my fault. I’ll be going to Jamie’s house, the little girl with cerebral palsy. Her parents shouldn’t have a problem if you come too, since they’ve spoken with you a few times before.”

The offer isn’t something Jaebum expected. “That would be great,” he replies honestly. “I’ve been curious to see the difference between a formal and informal setting. How it works exactly. If you don’t mind, I appreciate the invite.”

“Anything for the documentary right? I’ll drive.” Jinyoung walks out of his workplace and Jaebum follows.

His mind races while he tries to figure out if the invitation by Jinyoung could be considered some sort of olive branch, but as soon as he thinks that he dismisses the idea. He’s reading too much into something small, and that right there, that spells trouble. The entire time he’s worked with Jinyoung, especially when he was on camera or if others were present, Jinyoung remained professional and courteous. But the moment the red light blinked off or if by chance they were alone, it seemed almost like Jinyoung added an extra intangible barrier between them.

He tells himself that he needs to do the same, to guard his heart at all costs; he doesn’t need to hope or look for signs that were never going to appear.

But still, this is the first time, even if it was just for a small moment, that Jinyoung didn’t seem quite so put together. That his extra defenses, they seem a little less guarded. He looked vulnerable. And it’s strange because in the past, he would have immediately known what to say and what to do to comfort Jinyoung. But now he feels completely lost not knowing how to act. Since that first meeting in the hallway of Parker Center, there have been lines drawn in the sand, and anything he would have done in the past would be crossing those lines.

It’s because his mind is still too occupied that he almost runs into Jinyoung who had come to a complete stop in the middle of the side parking lot. It’s where the staff parked, and it’s where he parks too because he didn’t want to take away the close parking from patients and their families.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, it’s just,” he pauses like he’s searching for words and massages his forehead with a wince, “I’ve got a bad headache and—”

“Would you like me to drive?” Jinyoung doesn’t answer right away. “If you give me the address I can use my phone’s GPS. You won’t have to worry about giving me directions and you can rest a bit.”

“If you’re sure?” Jaebum nods. “I have a couple of things I need to get out of my car if you’ll just wait a second.” Before Jaebum can offer his assistance, Jinyoung walks away.

It’s five minutes later and they’re on the road with his GPS stating an arrival time in exactly twenty-two minutes. Jinyoung has his head resting against the passenger window with his eyes closed. Jaebum doubts he could have fallen asleep so quickly, and he hates to disturb his peace but he needs to anyway. “Do you mind if I stop at a gas station?” He keeps his voice low in deference to Jinyoung not feeling well.

Jinyoung opens his eyes for a quick second and checks the time. “That’s fine,” he says, his eyes already shutting again.

When he stops, he leaves his car running so the air can keep the car cool for Jinyoung. It takes him only a couple of minutes to get what he needs. He returns with two bottles of water and a small plastic bag with a bright smiley face on it stating, ‘Thank You for Shopping Here’.

At Jaebum’s softly spoken Jinyoung — not Junior, a slip neither of them acknowledge — Jinyoung wakes enough to see and take the bottle of water Jaebum is handing him. When Jaebum doesn’t take the plastic bag back, Jinyoung takes that too. Inside he finds a small bottle of pain reliever.

“For your headache,” Jaebum explains needlessly.

—

It’s the first week in July and the tourists continue to flock to the Big Apple in droves while the weather stays bright and sunny.

He keeps busy with work and working out. And he comes home nightly to a nicely furnished, beautifully decorated, but still much-too-empty apartment. He hasn’t dated, and again ‘dated’ is used in the loosest of terms, since he left Seoul and even before that it had been a while.

If he has to try and pinpoint what changed, what made him stop looking for a one-night stand or a short one-week flirtation, he’d wager a guess that it had been some time after meeting Minjoon in Paris.

More than anything that had fucked his mind. Minjoon who looked so much like Jinyoung. Minjoon who looked so much like Jinyoung but was not, and never could be, Jinyoung.

After Paris, he met and dated a few times more, but each instance left him feeling colder and more alone than ever before. The emptiness that he felt — that he felt since leaving Jinyoung seven years ago — kept getting bigger and bigger, expanding until he felt soon he would get swallowed into the dark chasm and never make it out.

Maybe that’s why he made the decision to leave Seoul and return to New York again. To try and find that missing part of him. To try and ease the loneliness that threatened to overtake him at any given moment. To try and make up for all the mistakes he made.

The voice in his head tells him it’s a lost cause, because Jinyoung Park is that missing piece. Jinyoung Park is the cure to his loneliness and Jinyoung Park will never forgive him.

Maybe he’s not meant to be happy. Maybe he doesn’t deserve to be happy. Maybe he’s selfish, maybe he’s asking for too much. Maybe it’s enough for him to just make it through the day.

It’s enough if Jinyoung is happy; it is, he reiterates forcefully. Jinyoung is married to Mark, and Jinyoung is happy, and that is all that matters.

It’s all that matters.

It is.

It is

(not).

—

He spends most of his morning and early afternoon at ANNAN, collaborating with his teammates and divvying up tasks still needed to be done for their project. Then he shifts gears mentally and grabs everything he needs for his afternoon appointment at Parker Center.

It’s later after group therapy finishes and Jinyoung’s talking with a patient’s family who had come to pick up their loved one that Youngjae strolls over to help him pack a few things. It’s something Youngjae had started doing the last couple of sessions, if he had the time to spare.

“Did you eat lunch today?”

“I had a protein bar. Does that count?”

“It shouldn’t,” Youngjae says, fixing him with a disapproving glare that fails to be truly effective thanks to his usual sunshiny countenance. “Come on, then. Leave your stuff here, it’ll be fine for a few minutes.” Youngjae waves a quick goodbye to patients on his way out of the therapy room.

“Where are you taking me?” Jaebum asks once he catches up to Youngjae in the hall.

“Staff room,” Youngjae replies, slowing slightly to match Jaebum. “My mother makes enough to feed a small army and I brought some side dishes to share with you.”

“Oh, no that’s — Youngjae, no. You don’t need to worry about my eating habits, really. I couldn’t ask you—”

“Well that’s good then, since I didn’t hear you ask,” Youngjae interrupts with a kind smile. “I offered. And I don’t worry, I’m being practical. It will go to waste otherwise. I really cannot eat as much as my mom seems to think I can.”

When they enter the break room a few minutes later, Youngjae grabs a cooler that had been sitting atop the counter and opens the refrigerator door. At Jaebum’s questioning look like ‘how did you know I’d agree?’ Youngjae shrugs in response. “I like to be prepared. Boy Scout motto and all.”

“Were you even a Boy Scout?” Jaebum never had the opportunity to join as a kid.

“For like three months I think? I had to quit when we moved and my mother never signed me up again. The motto stuck with me though.”

“I see,” Jaebum says with an exaggerated air of sageness. “Those three months really must have been something special.”

“Well,” Youngjae begins with a rueful grin. “I may have started a small fire… but don’t ask about that. Or the half a dozen fire fighters who showed up to rescue us…”

“All right, I won’t. Scout’s honor,” Jaebum tells him, trying unsuccessfully to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“Were you a Scout too?”

“Nope,” Jaebum answers, finally letting out a quick laugh. Youngjae just shakes his head at him and turns back to his task at hand. Jaebum takes the chance to look around the staff room. It’s kept clean and organized. There are two circular tables with a few chairs around them each and an L-shaped sofa that takes up a good portion of the back wall with a coffee table in front of it. The opposite wall where Youngjae stands is the standard kitchen set-up: refrigerator, stove, sink. A microwave and toaster oven sit on the countertop with a row of cabinets above them.

Youngjae points to a plate of cookies, covered in plastic wrap, on one of the tables. “You have to try a cookie, or maybe like half a dozen. Junior surprised us by bringing them in today. We don’t have parties here often, mostly it’s for someone retiring or a welcoming party for a new hire thing… but any time we have one, it’s the one thing we always make sure to request,” Youngjae informs him, not aware the effect his words have on Jaebum. “Just between you and me, and this is something I will _never_ tell my mother, but I think Junior’s cookies may be better than the kind she makes.”

Jaebum tries his best to listen as Youngjae confesses (more like bemoans) his lack of kitchen skills. Apparently the younger man had a bad habit of setting off the fire alarm anytime he attempted to cook, and it had happened so often that he became friendly with a few firefighters from his local precinct. At that point of the story, Jaebum wonders if maybe Youngjae should have stayed in the Boy Scouts longer, at least to learn proper fire etiquette like ‘how not to start a fire 101’.

But the other half of his mind is busy taking a stroll down memory lane. He thinks it’s stupid and probably more than a little pathetic that such a little thing, something as inconsequential as freshly baked cookies could transport him back to a time when everything in his life made sense. Before it fell apart so spectacularly.

He remembers the first time Jinyoung baked for him. It had been his tenth birthday and honestly by then he’d forgotten the promise Jinyoung had made the summer before. Jinyoung later told him that he had practiced dozens of times and threw away just as many cookies — naturally he had protested at the thought of cookies being trashed, but Jinyoung had replied simply that he wanted to perfect his baking skills before giving any to his best friend.

Still caught up in the past, it takes him a moment to realize Youngjae is now in front of him, holding out the plate of cookies in his direction. In his other hand, Youngjae has a half-eaten cookie. “Go ahead, try one. You’ll thank me later, well—” he stops the second he sees his boss standing at the doorway, “or actually, you can thank Junior now since he made them.”

Jaebum is almost certain somewhere up there in the universe, someone’s having a good laugh, shaking their head at the ridiculousness of the awkward mess that a plate of chocolate chip cookies make. But since he’s currently stuck in the aforementioned situation, he doesn’t find it terribly amusing.

“Seriously?” It’s Jinyoung who speaks, and when he makes no move to take any of the offered baked goods or do anything else, Jinyoung marches over, grabbing a cookie and shoving it in his direction. “Take it and eat it, or throw it away. I really don’t care,” he says before leaving just as quickly as he came in.

—

The final couple of weeks leading up to his last day at Parker Center comes and goes far quicker and faster than he would have liked.

He always knew this day would come; he just thought he’d be a little more mentally prepared for it. It’s not like he hadn’t walked away from Jinyoung before. It had been the hardest thing he ever did, and if someone were to ask him if he could do it again, he’s honestly not sure what his answer would be. Walking away had nearly killed him, and thinking back to that time, he’ll admit that he’s surprised he even survived and made it to the other side of whatever this is that currently constitutes his life.

He did it once though, so that means he can do it again.

He can do it again.

He has to.

He wonders how many times he’ll need to say that in order for him to start believing it?

—

Since the encounter in the break room with Jinyoung, neither of them bring it up and choose instead to ignore it completely. They fall back into their established pattern of cool professionalism and pretense for the remainder of his time there.

With all the footage he has filmed thanks to his time at Parker Center, combined with his talks with students in the program and NYU professors as well as the ones he met at the conference, he has a strong foundation in which to build the music therapy documentary. He knows he’s gotten some really great material, perhaps even too much as it’ll be hard to shift through the raw footage to pick and choose what to put into the film and what will end up on the cutting room floor. It’s a painstaking process but it’s one that he thoroughly enjoys.

Every single person he had come into contact with at Parker Center had been exceedingly helpful and wonderful to work with the last few months. They allowed him free rein into their workspace and did what they could to make sure he had whatever he needed while filming. It’s why on his last official day there he wants to extend an open invitation to the staff for a dinner out to show his appreciation for all the assistance they had given him.

While he’s on good terms with everyone, he does want to get Jinyoung’s approval since it’s mostly his staff he wants to thank, but first he needs to find Jinyoung again. They just finished filming a short while ago, but Jinyoung left before he had a chance to stop and ask him. Then a few people who knew it was his last day started coming up to him to say their goodbyes.

It takes him only a few minutes to locate him on the fourth floor, presumably heading to his office. “Junior.” (It still feels fucking weird to call him that, which is why most of the time he goes out of his way to avoid it.)

Jinyoung turns to face him, a blank look settling on his features. “Did you need something? I thought we were finished.”

 _I thought we were finished._ Jaebum hates how that sounds, especially since it’s essentially true in more ways than one.

“Yes, film-wise everything’s fine. I just wanted to see if I could invite you and all the music therapists, maybe even a few others, out for dinner. A thank you for all the help and input with the film.”

“There’s really no need for you to do that.”

“I know but everyone has been so great. I wanted to show my appreciation in some small way.”

“All right, if you insist.” Jaebum is happy for all of one point five seconds. “I’m not going.”

Why is on the tip of his tongue, but it’d be stupid to ask. He already knows the answer, the answer is obvious. It’s because of him. Jinyoung’s been far kinder and nicer to him than he deserves. It’s him who wishes things were different.

“I don’t have to go,” he says after a moment. “I really do want to thank you for-for everything, the documentary’s success will be thanks to you and everyone here at the Center… so you can go with your coworkers and you can use my card. I trust you.” He realizes maybe he shouldn’t have added that last part (even if it’s entirely true) when he sees the answering fire in Jinyoung’s eyes.

“Really now, JB?” Jinyoung scoffs, adding extra emphasis to his name. “You trust me enough to give me your bank card? You shouldn’t. I’d probably end up running the bar tab so high you would still be regretting it a year later.”

“I wouldn’t care.” Which is true, again. Money means nothing. Not when Jinyoung so clearly hates him.

“You should, you really fucking should.” Jinyoung stands there staring at him, like he’s not sure what he wants to do to him but none of the options seem like they’d be pleasant. “Go take them out, they deserve it. Do whatever you want but don’t include me.”

He isn’t sure how long he stands there after watching Jinyoung walk off but it’s Youngjae coming up to him that finally snaps him out of his trance.

“Hey, I was worried that you already left. There’s something I wanted to ask you…”

—

It’s Youngjae who gives him a reason (excuse) to continue coming to Parker Center.

During the documentary’s filming process, not only had he gotten to know the music therapists and some other staff members, he also became friendly with the patients and their families.

There is one, Daehyun, the kid Youngjae had mentioned being his first solo patient, who often stayed quiet and was reluctant to join any sort of activity that Jinyoung and Youngjae tried during the group sessions. Jaebum would be filming and he would catch Daehyun not participating in the group but instead staring at him.

It’d been a bit unnerving the first couple of times, but he adapted quickly and got use to the intensely focused attention. He started smiling at Daehyun, and it took a while — it didn’t happen until the last few group sessions actually — for Daehyun to finally try to return a smile in his direction. Daehyun continued to be extremely shy and withdrawn, but there was something entirely endearing about the younger teen that made it easy for Jaebum to understand Youngjae’s soft spot for him.

So when Youngjae brings up the idea about volunteering at Parker Center, he answers truthfully that he hadn’t thought about it at all. He hadn’t known they accepted, or even wanted, volunteers. Youngjae explains while the Center is extremely meticulous about who they allow to volunteer, it’s also not completely unheard of — they very much appreciate those who have extensive knowledge in the artistic and creative fields sharing their time with in-house patients. A staff member is always nearby, and occasionally accompanies the volunteer, to make sure the patients are well taken care of at all times.

It’s because he had been thinking about how Daehyun would miss seeing Jaebum that prompts Youngjae to ask.

Not expecting the question, and more importantly not expecting to have a reason to keep coming, Jaebum thanks him and promises he’ll carefully consider it.

—

His careful consideration and thinking about it consists of one very sleepless night, where he spends the entire time weighing the pros and cons of volunteering at Parker Center.

The pros and cons all center around one person and one person only: Jinyoung Park.

Every positive and every negative that could come from volunteering all lead to the exact same conclusion. He would be a complete idiot to volunteer, to keep going back to a place where he could see Jinyoung.

Certifiably insane.

Stupid, so stupid.

Foolish, so fucking foolish.

Then again, they say ‘only fools fall in love’ and he had proven that one true many times over.

—

He juggles the responsibilities of starting another documentary and a pro-bono charity gig, editing the music therapy documentary, and volunteering at Parker Center all while trying to pretend, to the world and to himself, that he’s perfectly okay.

Youngjae makes a point to accompany him when he visits Daehyun and together they work on getting the withdrawn boy to open up more with photography and the art of picture-taking.

It’s in the middle of his third visit volunteering that he crosses paths with Jinyoung.

“Hey.” He stops short, searching for something to say, since it’s still easy to recall how badly their last meeting ended. He knows Jinyoung is aware of his decision to volunteer, and now it’s clear to see that Jinyoung is the opposite of pleased to see him. And it hits hard how bad of an idea this whole thing is. His decision-making process in all Jinyoung-related things continue to be the worst. “Is this okay? Volunteering here I mean,” Jaebum clarifies, thinking he most definitely should have run the idea by Jinyoung first. “Youngjae suggested it, but if it’s going to be a problem then I can…” He thinks about how he really enjoys meeting with patients and trying to bring a bit of joy into their lives. “I do want to volunteer, but maybe I could come by when you won’t be here? Or I could… I could just not come back.”

“It’s much too late for that.” The way Jinyoung looks and says it, it’s like there’s an underlying meaning mixed in. That he’s not just referring to Parker Center, but more like Jinyoung is saying he shouldn’t have come back to New York at all. “It doesn’t matter, not anymore,” he tells him. His gaze steely as Jinyoung adds, “I stopped caring about what you were up to a long time ago, JB. Why would it be any different now?”

—

It’s the end of the first week in September. The weather’s already changing into a brisk cool once the sun sets and everyone starts the inevitable countdown of days until they’ll need to break out their heavier winter clothes.

His visits to Parker Center continue, but he doesn’t always see Jinyoung. He tells himself it’s better that way. If they do happen to run into each other and someone else is there, a welcome-kind of third wheel, they’ll exchange a few short words. Today is one of those days. He’s with Youngjae on the third floor about to visit Daehyun when they hear a loud commotion coming from a room three doors back.

A loud piercing scream and the sound of something metal, then glass, being thrown to the floor. Jaebum recognizes the voice; knows his illness, knows his size. And because they had just come from that same direction, Jaebum knows Jinyoung is in the room all alone.

And knowing that is enough for him to rush toward the room without a second’s hesitation — to do what, he isn’t certain but the profound need to protect Jinyoung is something he can never let go of — but it’s Youngjae who pulls him back and restrains him.

“No, you can’t.”

For someone who claims to never go to the gym, Youngjae’s grip on his arm is surprisingly strong and the younger man goes as far as stepping in front of him, using his full body to keep him from entering.

He remains standing outside, but not because of Youngjae — perhaps he should feel guilty but he knows without a single doubt in his body that if two nurses hadn’t just rushed into the patient’s room, he would have pushed Youngjae aside to get to Jinyoung.

He can hear Jinyoung speaking calmly to the patient, his voice devoid of fear, as Jinyoung tries his best to settle him down. He can hear Jinyoung requesting that the nurses don’t restrain the patient, and the nurses deciding to give the agitated man a sedative to help soothe him.

It’s all too much for Jaebum, this fear that overwhelmed him so quickly and easily. He can’t seem to shake the nerves and uneasy feeling settling in his stomach so he walks away, hoping with a little distance he can ease his racing heart.

He isn’t surprised when Youngjae catches up to him moments later to apologize, explaining that it would have been worse for the patient (and possibly Jinyoung as well) if he had allowed him to go in.

“I know,” Jaebum tells him, his voice subdued. He doesn’t blame Youngjae at all. “You did what you needed to do.” And he had done exactly what he’d always done. Always rushing headfirst, without care or thought, because he had never been able to think clearly when it came to wanting to protect Jinyoung.

But Jinyoung doesn’t need him to act as his white knight, because someone else already has that job title.

Despite knowing that, he loiters outside Parker Center waiting for Jinyoung’s work day to finish.

“What are you doing here?”

He’d been sitting in the shade on a bench, his phone in hand scrolling through his inbox and putting flags on emails he needed to reply to asap, but the spoken question tears his attention away and he sees Jinyoung standing there, looking baffled. He understands Jinyoung’s confusion since Jinyoung no doubt had seen him leaving an hour ago.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he answers. He stands then, so he doesn’t have to spend the entire conversation craning his neck. “I was on the third floor earlier, when the patient had the…” He’s not sure what to call it in correct medical terms, so he settles on, “incident.”

“Are you really going to keep doing this?” Jinyoung questions, but it’s like he’s asking it rhetorically and not expecting an actual reply. “I’m fine, it’s not even the worst that’s happened to me—”

At Jaebum’s sound of distress (and he’s certain his face shows the same), Jinyoung seems to soften just a tiny bit as he tries to downplay what he’d just revealed.

“We’ve got a great group of staff members, they’re always nearby in case something like today happens. It’s much more important for the patients not to harm themselves when they’re having a particularly bad episode.”

He can understand that on an intellectual level, but he wishes too that Jinyoung would be careful. When Jinyoung starts to walk away, Jaebum can’t keep from calling out to him, stopping Jinyoung mid-step.

Jinyoung slowly spins back around, his eyes full of caution and he seems entirely too exhausted. “Yeah,” he says, half asks in question.

“Are you okay to drive home?”

“You don’t need to worry.”

“I know,” he accepts that Jinyoung is right. And still, he asks, “But are you?”

The silence between them seems to stretch indefinitely until finally Jinyoung gives a small affirmative nod.

—

Since their exchange outside of Parker Center, after the patient incident, he had only been able to stop by and volunteer once for just a short hour. He hadn’t seen Jinyoung then, but he wants to see him today.

Despite his busy schedule and workload, and despite the fact that this may be a very stupid idea (not the first, and definitely won’t be his last), he made a point to go in an extra hour early the last three days, so that today he could clock out three hours early.

It’s September twenty-second.

Jinyoung’s birthday.

He knows (he knows too fucking well) that he doesn’t deserve a second chance with Jinyoung, to be friends again, but try as he might (and God knows he tried for years, putting _literal_ miles and miles between them) he cannot forget Jinyoung. He misses him with every single fiber of his body, heart, and soul.

The need to try and the want to fix things between them, no matter how foolish of a thought it may be, is something he cannot completely let go of. He should, but should and will do are two very different things.

Like most days that he comes to Parker Center, fate has it that he runs into Youngjae first. He tries to be discreet as they walk down the long corridor together, trying to search out and find Jinyoung but he must do a poor job because Youngjae casually mentions that Mr. Baldwin had called a staff meeting with all the department heads that afternoon.

By a quarter ’til five, he still hasn’t seen Jinyoung and he knows he’ll be leaving work soon. He already missed too many years, not being able to wish Jinyoung a happy birthday, and it feels wrong for it to happen again.

He’s about to excuse himself from Youngjae so he can head to Jinyoung’s office but Danielle stops by first to greet him and ask about the music therapy documentary. It’s Youngjae though who asks after their boss. “Have you seen Junior? Is he still with Mr. Baldwin?”

“That big staff meeting? Yeah it ended like fifteen minutes ago but I saw Junior leave right after. It’s kind of unusual since he almost never does that, but he probably has big plans tonight or maybe something came up.”

They chat a few minutes more but Jaebum pays little attention to the conversation.

Of course Jinyoung would have plans, it’s his birthday after all. A day of celebration. A day of celebrating with people you care about. He would be with Mark: happy, together, and in love.

He’s a fucking idiot.

Really.

“Did you want to wish him a happy birthday?” Youngjae asks. The tone of his voice is soft and sincere.

He looks around and sees Danielle had left and he hadn’t noticed. He doesn’t bother asking Youngjae how he could read his mind so well. (Maybe he really _is_ obvious, which makes him feel that much more pathetic.)

Youngjae had never pried to ask him about what happened between Jinyoung and him, despite having witnessed a couple emotionally-charged moments. It’s something Jaebum had been immensely grateful for. Except now Youngjae surprises him with, “You really should ask him out.”

It takes him a full thirty seconds to reply because out of everything Youngjae could possibly say to him — even something as far-fetched sounding as he secretly is a multi-millionaire, or that he believes aliens abducted him when he was a child — that’s one he never expected.

“Wait, what?” Jaebum is sure Youngjae did not mean he should ask Jinyoung out. “Did you forget about Mark?”

“I think you should ask Junior out,” Youngjae repeats. “I’m probably overstepping all kinds of lines and boundaries since Junior is my boss and I’ve only known you for a few months, but I figured the documentary is done and it seems like you really care about him… so why not?” Youngjae questions him back. “As for Mark, I didn’t forget about him… I don’t even know who he is.”

“Jun—Jinyoung’s husband. Mark Tuan.”

The look on Youngjae’s face would probably have been more comical if he didn’t feel like he was swimming in an ocean’s worth of confusion himself.

“Junior, or well Jinyoung as you obviously know him… he’s not married.”

He discovers he was absolutely wrong before because this, this is the most shocking thing Youngjae has ever said to him.

Jinyoung isn’t married.

Jinyoung is not married.

Jinyoung

is

not

married.

But that, that cannot be possible. It cannot be right, right? Jinyoung would have said something if they had separated.

Or would he have?

“Are you sure, Youngjae? Are you absolutely without a doubt sure that Jinyoung’s not married?”

“Yeah, I am,” Youngjae answers straightaway, sensing Jaebum’s frantic need for a confirmation. “Junior — sorry it feels weird to start calling him something else, Junior keeps his work and personal life very separate but it came up once when I was with him during my training period and a patient asked.”

Jinyoung is not married. He keeps repeating that in his mind, over and over again, because this feels too much like a dream to actually be true. He’s not sure what it means, and he tells himself it means nothing. All he knows is that he needs to talk to Jinyoung.

Like now.

Right now.

But he realizes belatedly that he has no idea where Jinyoung lives. Chances of him still living in the house he had with Mark are slim.

“Do you know his address?”

Youngjae doesn’t need him to specify who he’s referring to, it’s more than obvious. “Sorry I don’t.” Seeing how quickly Jaebum’s face falls, he comes up with an idea. “I’m close friends with someone in the HR department. Maybe I can get his address for you that way?”

—

It takes him exactly twenty-three minutes (and that’s maybe because he totally broke one or two speeding laws) after he leaves Parker Center to pull into Jinyoung’s apartment complex.

It takes another minute before he reaches Jinyoung’s apartment door, because he chose the stairs versus waiting for the elevator. The adrenaline in him making it easy to take four flights of stairs without pause.

It’s been exactly forty-two minutes and some odd seconds since he learned that Jinyoung is not married to Mark.

Forty-two minutes and his heart still feels like it’s in a contest with a hummingbird over whose heart could beat the fastest.

Forty-two minutes and you’d think (really, truly you would think) that he would have come up with something to say to Jinyoung when he saw him.

Except he doesn’t stop to think (it’s a reoccurring problem with him when it comes to Jinyoung-related things) and instead he charges forward and knocks on the door — at least he has the sense to knock, and not to bang heavily on the door, yelling out Jinyoung’s name like he may have wanted to — waiting, waiting, and waiting until finally the door opens.

And there stands Jinyoung.

Jinyoung Park.

The boy who had stolen his heart and never gave it back, the man who had broken his heart and could, if he wanted to, mend it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *taking a page out of a kdrama handbook with THAT bombshell and cliffhanger*
> 
> Constructive criticism and feedback are both much appreciated. Thank you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of Ch1, I said this story starts going forward before the missing pieces are filled in. Well, here’s a piece of the puzzle.
> 
> (I fail at ratings, but this is most likely a mature pg13/soft r.)

_Leave me out with the waste_  
_This is not what I do_  
_It’s the wrong kind of place_

_//_

_It’s the wrong time_

_//_

_It’s a small crime_  
_And I’ve got no excuse_

“9 Crimes” by Damien Rice

—

 _And why do you sing Hallelujah_  
_if it means nothing to you?_  
_Why do you sing with me at all?_

“Delicate” by Damien Rice

_____________

_September 11_

He’s in his bedroom in bed when his phone rings, breaking the silence in the surrounding darkness. A faint light comes through the blinds from streetlights below, and he grabs his cell phone before settling back against the headboard.

“Hey, you’re still coming over tomorrow, right?” Jinyoung greets him in question when he answers on the fifth ring.

It’s something that had been planned for, well for a while. Once Mark decided he would spend the day at his parents’ place, Jinyoung had extended the invitation. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he answers automatically. It’s not like he can say no, because that’d require things like explaining why he rather stay in bed all day and dream of happier, impossible things. “I may have a few errands to do first,” he warns in afterthought, building in an excuse as to why he may show up late. It’s not like he doesn’t want to see Jinyoung. He always wants to see Jinyoung and spend time with Jinyoung. It’s just…

“Well you better come!” Jinyoung insists earnestly. “It’s our last night together.”

… that.

Last night together.

Which he thinks is a stupid phrasing choice; a lot stupid actually. (How can it be their last night together, when they hadn’t had one night _together_?)

Regardless of word semantics, it’s something Jinyoung needn’t worry about reminding him of. He couldn’t forget, even if he wanted to. It’s as if there’s a calendar engraved in his brain with September thirteenth circled and marked in blood-red ink.

“I know.” His reply is soft, as he lets silence filter through and fill the phone line between them.

As if he recognizes Jaebum’s somber mood, Jinyoung apologizes. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy these last couple of weeks. Between the barrage of last minute details needing tending to and trying to start packing the apartment while also getting things ready for our trip, free time’s a luxury I haven’t been able to afford. But,” Jinyoung begins and Jaebum can hear the smile come into his voice, “I did come across a couple photo albums from our childhood and I got a little nostalgic looking through them. I kept them unpacked in case you wanted to go through them tomorrow.”

Jaebum makes a small hum of acquiescence, thinking he doesn’t need photos to remember all the small and big moments they shared growing up together.

They talk a while longer, Jinyoung saying he wants a reason to put off doing other responsible adult things like packing (claiming that talking to him is a very valid reason to take a break). Settling down on his bed until he’s lying flat, head propped against a pillow, Jaebum closes his eyes and lets Jinyoung’s voice wash over him like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. It’s comforting and comfortable, and yet it doesn’t lessen the growing ache in his chest.

“Jaebum hyung.” At his name being spoken, he pays closer attention. “You know I love you, right?”

“I do.” _Fuck._ His heart breaks a little bit more at his unintentional word choice.

“I want to say this now,” Jinyoung continues, tone becoming serious, “because tomorrow is just about us having fun. Smiles, laughter, and reminiscing, okay?” He pauses and waits to hear Jaebum’s agreement before speaking again. “But it’s not tomorrow yet, so… and this may sound a little sappy but I wanted you to know I’m really happy and thankful to have had you by my side all these years. You promised long ago that we’d always be best friends. Nothing’s going to change that, right?”

His heart clenches painful in his chest, because he wants to promise Jinyoung the world and more. He wants to give Jinyoung his word that nothing will change, but how can he be expected to keep that promise, when reality is, everything will change.

—

_September 12_

He sits at a bar in a part of town he’s not the least bit familiar with. When he had left his apartment earlier, he hadn’t had a plan beyond an overwhelming need to get out. The air felt stifling, suffocating; the walls as if they were closing in on him until he was certain that soon he’d be fighting a rising panic in an effort to simply breathe. So he grabbed his keys, locking the door behind him, and headed out without a clue, or care, to where he’d end up.

He’s been taking up residence on the same open-back stool (minus one much-needed trip to the restroom) for the past, well honestly he’s not sure how long it’s actually been. People had trickled in and out, and he paid them little attention beyond a passing glance, if that. Their laughter and gaiety had quickly worn on his nerves though, so he soothed them, along with his bleeding heart, with alcohol. To make sure the bartender would be attentive but not obtrusive, he had slipped him a couple twenties as tip between nursing his first and second beer.

It _is_ getting late though. He can tell this by the increasing frequency of his phone vibrating against the wood-grain bar top as he consumes the drinks he ordered. Because it had distracted him in his quest to forget everything, he turned his cell to silent, even though it still lit up like a Christmas tree every time a new text or call came in. He instinctively knows without looking that it’ll be Jinyoung, and for the first time in his life, he’s ignoring his best friend on purpose.

He just… can’t. He doesn’t know _how_. How is he supposed to face him knowing what tomorrow brings?

He’s aware that Jinyoung has to be worried, even the bartender keeps glancing his way every now and then in silent question at the way his phone kept lighting up, and it makes him feel guilty for hiding like this. Right now, he’s supposed to be hanging out with Jinyoung just like “old times”.

It’s the reason he eventually ended up at this bar because he’d been in his car, driving who knows where — really he hadn’t been paying much attention at all, which is scary enough — and he had started thinking about having to go over to Jinyoung and Mark’s place and act natural, and more so, happy. He needed to go and pretend as if his heart wasn’t two steps away from buckling under the crushing, searing pain of being broken and battered.

So when he spotted the neon sign touting happy hour and liquor, he didn’t think twice before turning into the parking lot. He figured one drink would help. But that had been hours ago, and he still does not feel prepared mentally or emotionally.

Switching to something harder in potency, he downs it in one quick shot, welcoming the burning sensation with an audible hiss. He asks for another and downs it just as swiftly before requesting that his tab be closed out. He pays it underneath the bartender’s watchful gaze, like the guy’s trying to decipher how intoxicated he is and if he should say something like, ‘hey buddy, want me to call a cab for you?’

He’s drunk, but not drunk enough to dull his senses completely. It’s a shame too because not giving a fuck would be fucking fantastic. And while he can’t muster up and give a damn about the potential harm that could happen to him if he tried to drive, he’s also not an irresponsible asshole either. He does care about the other innocent people on the road which is what he tells the barkeep.

Once outside, he looks up to see the sky filled with billowy, ominous-looking clouds and he can’t help but think it’s a fitting match to his mood. A taxi pulls up at the opportune moment, just as rain starts to sprinkle.

After rattling off the address to Jinyoung’s place with Mark, he removes his phone from his pocket. He winces at the number of missed calls and texts — seeing the actual number pricks keenly at his conscious, making his guilt increase. Like he suspected they’re all from Jinyoung, minus two from his mother. Jaebum realizes Jinyoung must have called her at some point. He decides against calling his mom, not in the right mind frame to talk or answer questions, and texts her with a small lie that he’d forgotten his phone when he stepped out for a bit. He apologizes and ends with a promise to see her soon.

The rest of the cab ride is spent reading through the multiple texts and listening to voicemails Jinyoung had left for him since earlier that afternoon, messages that convey Jinyoung’s increasing concern.

 _Hey I thought you’d be over by now. I guess you’re still running errands?_ (A text.)

 _It’s not dinnertime yet, but I was thinking about ordering a delivery from that little Italian place you liked so much. Does that sound okay? Just text back and let me know!_ (Another text, an hour later.)

 _Hyung, I’m getting hungry. Where are you? Have you eaten? I guess you’re still busy, but… I thought we were going to spend the day together. Jaebum… hyung? Seriously though, you always answer back quickly. This is weird._ (Seven lines of text sent within a few seconds of each other.)

 _I’m getting worried._ (Another text, five minutes later.)

A call next.

“I went over to your place,” Jinyoung announces without preamble. “Thanks for that spare key by the way, comes in handy when your best friend plays at being a magician and disappears. I didn’t see anything suggesting foul-play or a break-in, and there weren’t signs of you being injured and taken to a hospital… so… yeah. I still don’t know where you are but I hope you’ve just got really shitty cell service or something…”

A second call, after a minute had passed. “By the way, I decided since I was out I’d pick up food instead of getting it delivered. I changed plans to pizza though. No crying about it later,” Jinyoung warns in his short message.

(A confession by text.) _I called your mother. I know. I didn’t want to worry her so I tried being vague but I probably did a crappy job so yeah, uh sorry? But really, it’s your fault for not picking up your damn phone. WHY have a phone if you’re not going to use it properly?_

“Jaebum hyung! I swear to God and all that is fucking holy you better be seriously injured or near death because if you’re not, the next time I see you, I’m going to kill you myself.” (A voicemail, followed shortly after by a text.) _Sorry about that last call, I didn’t mean it. It’s just… damn it hyung, why aren’t you responding?_

 _If I don’t hear from you soon, I’m going to start calling the local hospitals. It looks like there’s a bad storm brewing on the horizon._ (A text.)

Jaebum glances out the window to see rain coming down steadily, the sky letting out its anger through the torrential downpour and flashes of lightning. Because it had been bright skies when he left his apartment, he is without an umbrella and jacket. Turning away from the storm, his attention shifts back to his phone as he presses the button to listen to Jinyoung’s last voicemail.

“We just talked last night, and I know I’ve been busy but I thought we were okay?” Jaebum swears he can hear a sadness in Jinyoung’s voice and it guts him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this isn’t like you and I… I wanted to see you and hang out with you tonight but I guess… I guess maybe things aren’t going to stay the same?”

 _Hyung. Please, just a text to let me know you’re okay. Did I do something wrong? Tell me so I can apologize._ (Four lines sent consecutively.) _I won’t bother you anymore. Just… I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry._ (Jinyoung’s last text, sent thirty minutes ago.)

With each message, he comes to the realization that he can’t lie anymore, not to himself and not to Jinyoung. He can’t go through tomorrow — he can’t stand by Jinyoung’s side and watch him marry Mark — not without ever telling Jinyoung how he feels about him. It’s something he’d always regret, if he doesn’t confess now.

It’s as that life-changing decision is made that the cab starts to slow to a snail’s pace and he notices flashing red and blue lights up ahead along with the sound of a siren. Bad weather should make people cautious in their driving, but it never fails to bring out the worst in people. The drivers who think they’re invincible, selfish in their need to get to their destination without caring about others on the road. He does hope that no one is seriously injured, but as five minutes turn into fifteen without any forward advancement, Jaebum can’t stop nervous energy from flowing through his body.

He still has his phone in hand, but it’s not like he can call; this needs to be said in person and he doesn’t want to keep Jinyoung waiting any longer. Thankfully he recognizes the street corner they’re stopped next to, it’s a couple miles from Jinyoung’s place. The cab meter shows that he owes thirty-three dollars and some-odd cents, and he takes a couple of twenties and a five from his wallet and passes it forward.

The cabbie turns back in question, money clutched in hand. “We’re not there yet,” he states the obvious. “You can’t possibly mean to get out in this storm?”

That’s exactly his plan.

“Keep the change. I’ve got somewhere I need to be.” I’ve got someone I need to see, he thinks. Opening the backseat door, he exits quickly, ready to brave the weather. It’s easy enough to dodge cars and traffic thanks to it coming to a complete standstill. The adrenaline of seeing Jinyoung, of his impending confession, makes him run that much faster. The rain doesn’t bother him, but it does help to sober him.

Before he can finish knocking a second time, the door swings open wide and there’s Jinyoung standing before him, words of worry spilling forth from the younger man’s mouth. “Where have you been?” to “I’ve been calling and texting you all day! I was worried.” to “I started calling hospitals, I’d gotten up to the letter G when I heard the knock.” It’s then that Jinyoung stops to take a breath, belatedly noticing Jaebum’s current state of being soaking wet.

“Oh my God!” Jinyoung exclaims, voice rising in shock. “Did you run here in the rain? What happened?” His questions quickly segue into taking charge mode. “You need to get changed out of these wet clothes or you’re going to end up sick,” Jinyoung chastises as he pulls him into the warmth of the apartment, locking the door behind them. Jaebum takes a step forward, his shoes making an annoying squeaking sound on the tiled entryway and he quickly slips out of them. “Stay here, and I’ll get a couple of towels for you.” Jinyoung is already turned, poised to walk away, but Jaebum’s voice reaches out first and stops him.

“Don’t marry him.” Whisper soft the words leave his mouth before he can change his mind. Vague traces of alcohol enough in his system to lull him into not thinking about consequences.

“What did you say?” Jinyoung spins around and searches his best friend’s face.

“Don’t fucking marry him,” he repeats and then in one rush, words years in the making, “I love you.” His voice is pained and rough and filled with an urgent urgency that knows no limit, and before Jinyoung can say anything at all, Jaebum has him pulled into his arms and turned, until the younger man’s back hits the front door. And he’s kissing him like it’s the only thing he wants to do in his life. Like Jinyoung’s lips are the savior he believes in.

Jinyoung’s breathing heavily, and his hands go to Jaebum’s chest but instead of pushing him away, his hands clutch helplessly at the other’s wet shirt. Jaebum pulls back a tiny distance, to give them both a minute.

And in that minute, Jinyoung finds his voice. “No, we can’t do this. _I_ can’t do this.”

Jaebum’s eyes shutter close in response and his body goes slack, intending to release Jinyoung and walk away and pretend like this never happened, except Jinyoung drags him forward again and kisses him like it’s what he was born to do. Like Jaebum’s lips are the downfall he’s willing to risk.

It’s wrong, Jaebum knows it has to be, but how can it be when it feels like their bodies are two puzzle pieces perfectly fitted together?

Jaebum shifts slightly, lifting Jinyoung up, and Jinyoung answers by wrapping his legs around Jaebum’s waist to anchor himself as he kisses him back with a matching fervency. Jaebum’s hands are everywhere, at the back of Jinyoung’s neck to change the angle of their kiss as he slips his tongue into Jinyoung’s mouth to drink in the sweet addicting taste of him, then down his chest to pull at his shirt, wanting, aching to touch the skin hidden underneath. Breaking their kiss with reluctance, just long enough for him to yank off Jinyoung’s shirt, he discards it carelessly on the floor.

Intending to kiss Jinyoung’s newly exposed skin, he leans forward but Jinyoung’s voice stops him, thick with want. “You too.” Jinyoung’s hands tear at the buttons of his button-down, his wet shirt proving to test Jinyoung’s patience as it clings to his skin, causing Jinyoung to growl in frustration and utter a low curse. Then his shirt is off, and Jinyoung’s hands are splayed against his chest, stroking the dampened skin. His body shivers as he watches Jinyoung run his fingers down his chest to his abdomen, dipping teasingly close to his waistband, before retracing his route, leaving behind lingering traces of fiery warmth.

It’s overwhelming and too much and not enough at the same time.

His lips crash into Jinyoung’s, and it’s sinful and heated and charged with all the pent-up desperation he’s felt. Jinyoung’s hips press hard against him in response and there’s a moan that fills the air at the close contact and he no longer cares about anything else because there are still too many clothes in the way and all he wants to do is touch every inch of Jinyoung’s naked skin with his mouth and his hands and never stop.

“Bedroom.” It’s Jinyoung that pleads in a voice he doesn’t recognize, one of need and insanity and lust, and Jaebum can not refuse the younger man anything.

Jaebum never lets go of him as he walks them toward the bedroom, keeping a firm hold that is still gentle. Jinyoung’s wandering hands and mouth distract him along the way, and he stops to kiss Jinyoung until they’re both breathless and needing oxygen. He’s easily getting drunk again, this time on the intoxicating taste of Jinyoung.

It’s once they reach the master bedroom that Jaebum carefully sets Jinyoung back to his feet. He doesn’t make a move to touch him; he just stands and waits, patiently watching.

Keeping his eyes locked on Jaebum, Jinyoung discards his pants in one fluid motion.

“Come here,” Jaebum murmurs and Jinyoung steps forward. Jaebum places his hands tenderly on both sides of Jinyoung’s face before brushing a featherlight kiss to each corner of his eyes, then to his nose, and finally to his lips. Jinyoung sighs into the kiss, as his arms circle Jaebum’s back to hold him close.

Their soft kiss gives way soon to passion and Jinyoung’s fingers work to take Jaebum’s belt off and then his pants, until they’re both left in nothing but their underwear as they tumble onto bed together in breathless laughter.

There’s little talk as hands and mouths explore both familiar and uncharted territories, in ways they never had before. It’s arousing and sweetly sensual, with Jaebum’s hands and mouth never losing their reverence as he touches him. Instead sounds of gasps, whimpers, moans, and encouragement to touch more fill the soft-glow of the room as they lose their remaining article of clothing.

At the feeling of Jaebum’s hand pinching lightly the soft flesh of his inner thigh, Jinyoung twists away, scooting to the edge of the bed to reach into the nightstand. Jaebum turns to his side in wait, watching as Jinyoung gets out a partly used bottle of lube.

Then Jinyoung is back within touching distance and his face is flushed pink with desire as he unsnaps the cap and pours out a generous amount. His legs fall open and he shifts until he can reach lower and back, and Jaebum has never seen anything as devastatingly beautiful as Jinyoung in this moment, watching Jinyoung work himself open for him. He sees and hears the whimper as Jinyoung slides one finger in, his body stretching and accommodating the intrusion with a practiced ease. When Jinyoung’s about to add a second finger, Jaebum’s hand stops him, pulling his away.

“Let me,” Jaebum requests with a kiss. “Let me love you.”

Jinyoung nods slowly, allowing Jaebum to turn him over on his stomach.

Jaebum stares down at the picture Jinyoung makes, taking in the moment to appreciate. The younger man lies completely still, minus his body trembling in anticipation. As seconds pass and nothing comes, Jinyoung turns his head in question to see Jaebum watching him. “Touch me, please.”

He listens to the request, albeit in his own way. Jaebum takes his time, starting at where Jinyoung’s neck meets his shoulders and working his way down, trailing gentle caresses and teasing nips in his wake with hands and mouth. Then Jaebum’s hands are on his ass, kneading the round flesh, and Jinyoung moans in expectation of cool liquid and warm fingers. Jinyoung’s cock hard and leaking as his hips barely keep still, wanting some relief.

Instead of lube, Jaebum spreads his ass cheeks and mouths at his hole, making Jinyoung cry out in a strangled gasp as his hips jerk forward, in shock and desperate for some kind of friction. And when Jaebum’s tongue slips past his rim and enters him, he tries to muffle the cries he’s making until Jaebum draws back long enough to demand, “Don’t. I want to hear you.”

He uses his tongue and mouth to work him open, Jinyoung’s moans turning into mewling whines, as Jaebum’s hands on his ass provide enough pressure to keep Jinyoung from finding the release he craves. Then Jaebum’s mouth is gone and Jinyoung protests violently at the absence but Jaebum doesn’t allow him to feel neglected for long. He fills him with fingers next, stretching him further with lube and saliva, and Jinyoung is so close, so fucking close, moaning in abandoned pleasure, pleading for _more_.

Jaebum just kisses his hip bone and murmurs softly to him to wait, to be patient.

Slowing down and setting a torturous pace, Jaebum plays his body like an instrument and Jinyoung is helpless to do anything more than to let him. When he adds a fourth digit, Jinyoung can take no more and pushes back against them, trying, wanting desperately for Jaebum to give in and give him what he wants, to touch him right _there_ , in that sweet spot that promises release.

Jaebum is certain watching Jinyoung come undone is a religious, life-altering experience. Jinyoung’s mumbling incoherently now and openly crying and Jaebum finally moves up his body until his mouth is hot against Jinyoung’s ear. He licks the inner shell before whispering, “Come,” and the younger man readily obeys.

It’s seconds, or minutes, Jaebum isn’t sure before Jinyoung turns onto his back, boneless and pliant. The sheets underneath him and his skin as well are a mess, but Jaebum thinks Jinyoung looks beautiful.

“I am so in love with you.”

Jaebum ducks his head down to mouth at his cock, cleaning the mess Jinyoung had made, and Jinyoung whimpers at the contact, the overstimulation at coming down from a high, almost too much to handle. It’s a weak, short-lived protest as his dick starts to react as Jaebum’s hand joins his mouth. Not wanting Jinyoung to come again, at least not without him, Jaebum lets his cock slip out of his mouth and concentrates on cleaning the rest of the cum off Jinyoung’s body with his fingers, not intending to let a drop go to waste.

At the last second, Jinyoung reaches out, grasping his hand to bring it to his mouth instead, sucking each digit into his mouth and tasting himself on Jaebum’s fingers. Then he’s tugging Jaebum’s head down and they’re both falling back against bedsheets as their lips find each other’s again.

Jaebum’s moan is muffled against Jinyoung’s mouth, as the younger man’s hands caress his chest, circling his nipples, pinching lightly at one then the other. Long slender fingers continue their journey south, fingernails scraping gently across defined abs, before finally wrapping around Jaebum’s dick and it feels like fucking Heaven to Jaebum. He revels in the way Jinyoung is touching him, but at the same time he’s not sure how much longer he can last with Jinyoung touching him like _that_.

Breaking the kiss, he grabs the lube that’s still on the bed, coating his cock with it, before grabbing both of Jinyoung’s hands and clasping them together above his head. Intertwining their fingers together, he keeps his eyes steady on Jinyoung’s.

“Jaebummie please, hyung.” Black hair matted to his forehead, sun-kissed skin glowing against ivory sheets, eyes lust-blown and lips swollen red, the younger man looks exactly like Jaebum would expect a debauched angel to look. Jinyoung is the gospel and religion Jaebum had been praying for all along, and Jaebum wants nothing more than to worship at his body for the rest of his life.

He captures Jinyoung’s mouth again in a kiss that is achingly sweet and full of love and yearning and promises still unspoken as he takes a hand to grasp his cock and guide himself into Jinyoung’s welcoming body. The feel, the heat, of Jinyoung’s body clenching around his dick makes him want to cry in how perfect the moment is; how utterly perfect Jinyoung is.

He keeps his body still, until Jinyoung’s mouth moves against his and pleads, “More,” and “move,” between kisses and Jaebum finally lets go.

—

_September 13_

They’re tangled in sheets and in each other, Jinyoung’s back against his chest as they slept, and Jaebum finds a level of contentment he has never known before. There’s a simple eloquence in waking up next to the one you love. He presses a kiss gently to Jinyoung’s exposed shoulder, his lips already curving into a smile as he reaches for Jinyoung’s hand to lace their fingers together.

But at the kiss, Jinyoung jerks forward as if burned and clambers out of Jaebum’s embrace, scrambling until he’s sitting up, his backside touching the headboard of his bed. He pulls his knees to his chest, locking his arms around them tightly. He doesn’t look in Jaebum’s direction as he murmurs the next words. “You need to go.”

“Good morning.” They had stayed up most of the night, choosing to indulge in each other instead of sleep. Still not fully awake, Jinyoung’s words don’t register in his mind.

“You need to go, you can’t be here,” Jinyoung says again. His voice is louder, with a harsher quality to it, and it’s enough to finally cut through Jaebum’s sleep-addled fog.

He searches Jinyoung’s face and realizes it’s not a mirror image of his. “You’re still marrying him?” he asks, hating the fact that his voice isn’t steady. Hating he asks, because the question is stupid. Jinyoung’s body language and his refusal to meet his eyes is evidence enough.

“Yes.”

One word, one fucking word, is all it takes to erase the smile from his face and return the ache in his chest.

“This was a mistake.”

A mistake.

He can actually feel himself shutting down, as his heart shatters anew. He starts to gather his clothes in the bedroom, going on autopilot as he dresses, stumbling only once. He recalls with a vague indifference that his shirt and shoes should still be in the living room. His steps are slow, uneven and as he reaches the bedroom doorway, he can’t help but to turn back one more time to see Jinyoung. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“It’s much too late for that.”

The words follow him like smoke, as he walks away from Jinyoung, shutting the door behind him firmly and leaving his crushed dreams to burn into ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a dozen things I want to say, but first, honestly, I’d love to hear from YOU. 
> 
> Feedback, gut reaction, did you see that coming?, constructive criticism… all of it is most welcomed.


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